


One of Them

by aeducaanwrites



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: F/M, Woman Soldier, Woman in Disguise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-07
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2017-11-24 01:02:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 38,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/628526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeducaanwrites/pseuds/aeducaanwrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Getting through the physical was probably the most difficult for a woman in disguise to endure; obviously a woman couldn't just walk in to a doctors' office and get your imaginary testes felt up for a cough test. Thankfully, when ones' good friend is doctor, anything is possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Posing as a man to be accepted into the newest combat oriented group was harder than anyone could have anticipated. Getting through the physical was probably the most difficult for a woman in disguise to endure; obviously a woman couldn't just walk in to a doctors’ office and get your imaginary testes felt up for a cough test. Thankfully, when ones’ good friend is doctor, anything is possible; a falsified test and a written note and I was on my way to basic. But I’m getting ahead of myself; let me start from the beginning.

-oOo-

The day was December 8th 1941 when the United States joined the war in Europe and in the Pacific. The Japanese decided that the Americans were interfering with plans in Southeast Asia. President Roosevelt launched a full scale attack in response on April 18th 1942 that would soon be called the Doolittle Raid. Since then, close to every eligible man was being sent off to boot camp to either fight against Adolf Hitler and his Nazis or Emperor Shōwa and his Japs.

I found myself envying my older and younger brothers for being able to fight for their country; my older brother Gerald went off and joined the Navy and was fighting in the Pacific, as my younger brother Timothy joined the Air Force and was currently fighting in Europe. Being born a woman left me with little choice of my future. Growing up, I had always been the athletic girl who would rather rough house in the mud with all the boys than playing with Raggedy Anne dolls or play house with the girls. I was the one all the guys got along with, the one who was always picked first in sports, and the one never caught dead in a skirt or dress.

When my brothers went off to fight, I wanted to pack up my bags and join them. If women were allowed to fight, you could bet I would have been the first to sign up. Unfortunately, I was stuck back in good ol' Hell's Kitchen, New York. I was born on December 24th in 1921 and given the name Samantha Elizabeth Griffin; the girl with the man's knowledge, that's what all the women would say when they had talked to me for five seconds. I really am not sure what they were expecting; they asked me questions I knew and I answered them. On most days, I would just hang out in back of my father's gun shop, fiddling around with the firearms that were back there for repairs or cleaning. My mother wasn't impressed; she was determined to have me married off to the top suitor.

One day, I found a flyer tacked to a billboard inside Pop's shop saying that the military was recruiting men for the Airborne; at that moment, I knew my time for waiting was over. I was going to do whatever it took to get into the Army and fight for my country.

-oOo-

“C'mon, Chris! You totally owe me from that one time.” I begged, holding the paratroopers flyer in my hand. I had just showed it to him. Chris, who was practically my best friend, was a licensed doctor. I knew how the Army registration worked; I had watched my brothers enlist and I knew the fine print of enlisting. There had to be a physical examination but it didn’t have to be done by an Army doctor. You could bring a slip of paper signed by a practicing doctor and not have to take the physical examination done by the Army doctors.

“Sam, helping me get a date with Marissa doesn't mount up to doing this! You're asking me to forge a letter clearing you for basic training. I could lose my job! You could lose your life!”

“You know I can do this. I know more about guns than any of those guys put together!”

“Yes, I know that but what about the physical aspect? Or have you forgotten that you're going to have to run miles and do dozens of push ups? If you want to act like a man you're going to have to things like a man.”

“I'll be able to do all that and you know I can!”

“Samantha Elizabeth Griffin! No! That's my final answer so stop asking!”

-oOo-

As the weeks went by, I found myself constantly running to increase my stamina and speed for when Chris would finally give into my constant begging and write me a note so I could finally go off and fight for my country. He constantly put his foot down and ignored my pleas for him to reconsider. But I knew he could only say no for so long.

Both sides of the war were getting worse as time went on; I was constantly keeping tabs on the news on both the radio and in the newspaper. Dinners with my mother and father were silent affairs because we all had thoughts of Gerald and Tim on our mind. Mother would constantly leave in tears after something Pops would say about them doing the family proud or something along the same lines. It made me wonder how they would take it if I were somehow able to join the paratroopers.

Mother would probably keel over from dehydration because of all of her crying over her precious baby girl being surrounded by big bad men and the constant thought of me being found out and being put up to a wall and shot. I would take that chance if it meant that I could fight for my country.

One night, it seemed as though my prayers were answered; during yet another silent supper, there was a knock on our door. My father wiped his mouth with his napkin, rose from his seat at the head of table and went to open the apartment door. The muffled voices drew my curiosity. A few moments later, my father and Chris walked into the kitchen. Chris looked suspiciously nervous for just a regular talk.

"Samantha, your friend says he has to tell you something that cannot wait until we are finished with our meal." My father said, sitting back down into his chair and picking up his fork and knife. “Well, don’t just sit there; go talk to him so we can finish our supper.”

I slowly stood up from my chair, wiping my mouth and staring at Chris in confusion. He gestured to the balcony with his head, sliding the door open and allowing me through, following closely behind me. He sighed loudly once the door was closed again and leaned against the balcony railing, folding his arms across his chest and avoiding my eyes.

"If you just came over to lean on my balcony, I'm pretty sure you have your own to do that." I joked, joining him at the railing.

"Why?" he said looking dead straight into my eyes.

"How am I supposed to know your reasons for leaning on my balcony?"

“No, I mean –“ He took a deep breath through his nose, almost as though I were trying his patience but I somehow knew it was to calm the nervousness fluttering in his stomach. I felt my hopes begin to rise but I tried to push them down; it wouldn’t do to get excited for nothing. “Why do you want join the army so badly?”

Well. That’s an easy question.

“I want to serve my country.”

“You could serve our country like any other woman does, Sam.”

“I'd rather not serve my country by taking care of injured men who'll just grab my ass. I’d rather actually do something.”

He looked away and sighed again before one of his hands made its’ way into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small pink paper. He looked at it for a moment before slowly holding it out to me.

“We're even.”

I went to grab it but stopped in my tracks.

“What?”

He looked me dead in the eye and said, “After this, we are even for all the things you did for me back from when we were kids till now.”

I grabbed the pink slip of paper and slowly opened it, slightly afraid of what I would find written inside.

There written in black ink in Chris's sloppy doctor handwriting was his consent that Sam Joseph Griffin was fit for active duty.

“Chris.” I whispered in disbelief, not believing what was in my shaking hands. I looked him in the eyes with tears of gratitude. “I don't know what to say.”

He pulled me into a hug and whispered into my ear. “You say thank you and promise me you'll come back in one piece.”

I pulled away from the hug.

“You know I can't promise that.” I replied, my eyes overwhelmed with the onslaught of tears.

“Well, you better try your hardest to make it happen. I don't want to be the one facing your mother's wrath when she finds out I was the one who made it possible for you to go get yourself killed,” he joked with a shaky smile as though he were trying to hide the emotion of what he had agreed to. I laughed a choking sort of laugh and threw my arms around him again.

This was it. I was going. I was really going.

-oOo-

In a sense, the easy part was done. Now I had to somehow come up with a believable story as to why my long raven locks had been chopped off. Chris had suggested that I had been mugged and the criminal only wanted my hair for some odd reason. The look I gave him made him regret suggesting such a loony idea. Chris and I were sitting in a booth inside Marvin's Malt Shop when genius or lunacy finally struck.

.“Its no use, there's no story that is believable of why my hair has been chopped off that they would buy.” I whined blowing an enormous bubble from the bubblegum I was chewing.

Suddenly, a devilish look took over Chris's handsome visage. It was as though a lightbulb had just gone off inside his brain.

“Or you accidentally blow a bubble so big, it exploded into your hair -- making you cut it. Your mother will be so furious that you didn't listen to her warnings about blowing bubbles that she won't question why you had cut your hair.”

I jumped up in glee and grabbed my jacket, heading for the door. Chris quickly gulped down the remainder of his soda and chased after me.

-oOo-

“Okay, so you're one hundred percent sure you don't want a professional doing this?” Chris inquired, nervously holding a pair of scissors in his hand.

“And where would I go where no questions would be asked? No sane person of that trade would agree to cut a woman's hair as short as I want it.”

“Fine, fine...” He blew out a shaky breath. I had the strangest feeling that he was squeezing his eyes shut as the scissors approached the back of my head, opening and embracing a single lock of my hair before it snipped cleanly and precisely, the single piece of my hair falling lazily to the ground.

“Chris. You’re going to have to cut a lot more than that,” I told him, trying to contain my laughter.

“Shut up. Slow and steady does a better job.”

“If you keep going as slow as you’re going, we’re going to be here this time next year.”

He didn’t say anything else after that; his hands ran through my hair once before he fell to chopping off small snippets of hair and, for a few minutes, all you could hear was the sound of the scissors. Gradually, Chris’ muscles relaxed until the scissors were practically flying through my decreasing locks. I could feel my head becoming lighter and lighter and I became more and more giddy at the thought of losing all of the cumbersome hair that my mother had so gloried in.

Finally, Chris stepped back and sighed a sigh of great victory.

“If it needs any more touching up, I sure as hell am not doing it. You can get another one of your minions to do it.”

I stood up to look in the mirror and he practically threw the scissors at me in his haste to get out of the room before I turned around and he saw the destruction he had done.

It was done.

The next day, I found myself outside of a volunteering booth, holding the pink slip of paper in my hand and staring down at it nervously. This was it. There was no going back after this.

I took the first step, joining the line of hopefuls that were waiting for their turn in front of a man sitting at a table with a clipboard and a pencil.

“Next!”

Before I even knew it, it was my turn in front of the man. He asked for my name. I gave my alias numbly. After that, it was simply a blur. I was waiting for someone to halt in the middle of what they were doing, point at me with an accusing finger, and yell, “STOP! STOP! That’s no man!” But nothing of the sort happened. Just the opposite, really. I gave the man my information and the pink slip of paper. He looked at it with the sort of detachment that a man earns after looking at slips of paper all day long and filled out the information, stamped the paper 1A and handed the paper to me.

“Next!”

I was left standing there in shock. It was working. This was working.

I moved on to the next line, waiting to talk to the man that would officially swear me in, and then waited to talk to the next man after that, the man would tell me where I needed to be and when I needed to be there to be shipped off to basic training, excitement stirring in my belly.

It was working.

I was going off to war.


	2. Currahee Part One

The silence in Chris's black Ford Coupe was tense as we simply sat there, parked at the New York Railroad station. He was staring out the drivers’ side window and I, not knowing where else to look, gazed out the windshield. 

I knew he didn't want me to go but I also knew that he knew there was nothing he could do or say that would change my mind. My train ticket to Georgia lay in my hands and, though we did not say anything, it seemed as though that small slip of paper was the source of the palpable tension in the air. The silence was getting to me but, just as I opened my mouth to say something to him, the train whistle blew, signaling all stragglers to get aboard or else be left behind.

Suddenly, that didn’t seem like such a bad option.

Both Chris and I wordlessly got out of the Coupe and, as Chris walked around the front of the car, I opened the back door and grabbed the green Army regulation duffle bag that the New York office had so kindly provided me with. By the time I turned around, Chris was standing in front of me with tears in his eyes. The bag fell out of my hands unconsciously as my arms wrapped around him and I struggled to control myself as I pressed my face into his chest and told myself not to cry.

“You be careful Sammy, you hear me?” I nodded vigorously and pulled away from him, swiping aside the tear that was making its’ way down my cheek. I was afraid that if I stayed in his embrace for one more second, I would start bawling my eyes out or declare that I was an idiot for ever thinking I could do this and give up my mission altogether. “Don't play hero over there, okay?” He grabbed me by my shoulders and forced me to stare him straight in the eye. “When things turn south, you run as fast as you can. You hear me?”

It was all I could do to nod my head up and down and hope that this affirmation of my understanding would be enough to appease him. And I hoped to the heavens above that he would let go of me before the tears started coming down like an avalanche. For a moment, it was almost as though his eyes found my soul as they scrutinized my face. And then the moment was gone and his hands released my shoulders. Restraining a grateful, shaky sigh, I picked up the bag that had been dropped in the midst of emotion and I swung it over my shoulder, silently begging Chris to not speak another word, lest my feelings run away with themselves again.

“Keep me updated with everything, yeah?” My voice spoke quietly as my eyes avoided Chris’ face. I was almost afraid that if I looked at him again, he would lose it. And if he lost it, I would lose it. But even though my gaze stoically eluded his face, I could sense him letting a smile grace his features.

“You know it. Now get out of here; you have a train to catch.”

I surrendered myself into his arms for one more split second before I took a glance back at him and started jogging up to the train that would inevitably take me to Georgia.

-oOo-

Five hours into the trip to the basic training facility and I found myself sitting in a window seat, staring out of it at the blurred scenery that sped by. A few fellow paratrooper wannabes chatted with one another nearby. Earlier, there had been some guy that had tried to start up a conversation with me, but I wasn't in the talking mood. I was very quickly coming to regret that decision, seeing as we still had a couple more hours of travelling ahead of us. 

I threw another sneaking glance around at the men that I would soon call my compatriots; I saw that some were taking part in a game of poker while others just conversed with their seat mates. Even though I now desperately wanted to have someone to talk to, my mind began to drift and I took this time to wonder how my parents were taking the news that Chris promised to give them after my train left the station. I knew my mom was probably already crying her eyes out while my father would be burying himself in his work so he wouldn't have to think about me in danger, in combat, or winding up somewhere overseas, dead with a few bullets in my chest. 

The train whistle blew, jerking me out of my thoughts and signalling another stop to pick up more future paratroopers. With one last look around, I let my eyes slide shut. There were only a few more hours left until arrival. Only a few more hours of freedom before I began training for what would doubtlessly be some of the most important years of my life.

A nap would be good.

-oOo-

“Drill is a very important part of your military career. You will learn how to march correctly and many other things. We are Dog Company; we will be the known as the most vicious soldiers to grace the battlefield, do I make myself clear?”

“Sir yes sir!”

I chanced a glance at all the men around me. Dressed in our PT gear, ready to officially begin boot camp – and this was the first time we were meeting our commanding officer. Some of the enlistees were fidgety; some looked as though they belonged on the makeshift parade square. If we were to judge by our first encounter with him, our First Lieutenant was a stern, formidable man with hardened eyes that you would swear were staring deep into your soul and finding out every single one of your sins.

“First order of business; I like to have at least one person to throw in the towel on the first day so I'm going to push you till hell and back until I get my quitter... and the day won't end until that one person gives in.”

At that moment everything changed; we could now feel the impact of our decision to be here. To make it through basic training, we had to stick together and have each others’ backs.

“So if none of you mind... DROP AND GIVE ME 20!”

We all dropped like flies and got ready for the Lieutenants’ count. His commanding voice began and our arms rose and fell in time to his voice like automatic robots programmed to be soldiers. By the tenth push up, my arms were starting to burn. I glanced to the right of me to see the man next to me struggling even more than I was, if that was even possible. 

“What the hell is your problem, Private? I've seen little girls do more push ups than you!”

The perpetual screaming continued until we completed the task at hand only until the next one was thrown in our face. My arms felt like rubber and my lungs were already heaving a little too hard.

“That was the most pathetic thing I've ever seen! More pathetic than a man who can't get it up!

Wouldn't that be a sight to compare.

“Stand at attention! Just because you are winded from one little exercise doesn't mean you can stand at ease unless I say so -- and I don't recall saying so!”

He stared us down for a bit after that, his eyes as sharp as a hawk’s, hoping to prey on someone and rip them open like a poor, helpless rabbit. Fortunately for us, he didn't find one... or, rather, unfortunately for us, as his voice began belting out commands once more; commands that we were expected to obey on the double. We were at it again.

“Sprint to the obstacle course now!”

Fuck me...

-oOo-

It became evident very quickly that our CO was going to run us into the ground just to get one of us to break. I had taken a liking to the obstacle course right away; it had concepts that I always cherished growing up. One of them being the thrill of competition and the other just being able to do something the other girls couldn't do. As much as I looked ridiculous high stepping through the maze of rope, a sick part of me enjoyed it immensely. Especially when the men realized they weren't agile enough to successfully cross the obstacle without falling into a tangled mess and letting out a curse in anger.

Just when I thought that I was doing a great with the damn obstacle course, I came face to face with The Wall. The ten foot beast stared at me dauntingly as though it were daring me to just attempt to conquer the behemoth of a structure with my five-foot-three stature.

If that wall could have talked, I believe it would have told me, “We both know you aren’t going to get over me. Give up right now. Quit. Quit. Quit.”

Suddenly a blow to my shoulder knocked me back to the task at hand. The other guys just took a running start and leapt up and grasped the top of the structure and simply hauled themselves up and over. Sadly this wasn't the case for me; I could only jump and try to reach the ledge in hope of somehow grasping it.

“What is your major malfunction Griffin? Who passed you through medical with your height? Drop and give me twenty, Private!”

I take it back about my liking this – I'd rather be stuck back home having my mother setting me up with scumbags; dealing with idiotic sleazebags is ten times easier than having Lieutenant Matthews screaming in my face every hour of the day and twenty times easier than even thinking about getting over The Wall. At least if those scumbags tried anything, I could kick them where no man liked being kicked. With Lieuteniant Matthews – I could only dream.

Halfway through a push up, I got a glance of another company going through even more shit than what I'd been through so far. Their commanding officer had them in their PT gear, running up a hill that went on for God only knows how long.

“Attention, Private!”

I jumped up to my feet and stood at attention, trying to ignore the beads of sweat that trickled down my face ever so slowly.

“You better not plan on holding this class up again, Private Griffin, or I'll personally make sure you are out of the Airborne and back to whatever shithole you came from. Do I make myself clear?

“Sir yes sir!”

“Company! Attention!”

The sound of thundering footsteps could be heard for miles as the men -- and very short woman -- of Dog Company fell into formation.

“Private Smith; you're looking rather exhausted, are you going to be my quitter today?”

“No sir!”

“No? Well I think you just bought yourself another trip through the course. Move! Double time it, soldier!”

Private Smith was a pudgy boy who waddled like a penguin when he ran, which sure as hell didn't make matters better for him when he had to run the obstacle course with us all watching him, hoping he would quit so we could get some good rest.

There is something significantly discouraging about an entire company of people standing about, watching you on an obstacle course, hoping you give up.

“Hey Griffin...” a voice from behind me whispered into my ear.

“What?”

“You think Smith is gonna drop?”

“One can only hope...”

Suddenly, Lieutenant Matthews’ voice rang out. “Well, Snowflake, looks like you get a one way ticket back to suckle at your mother’s breast!”

That clearly answered the man’s question. Now if only they would let us sleep...

-oOo-

Lunch was a quick affair -- and when I say quick, I mean pushing and shoving to get a morsel of food into your stomach only to throw what was left on your plate into a trash can and run back to the parade square and back into formation.

“Enjoy your lunch?” First Lieutenant Matthews asked as he shovelled some mash potatoes into his mouth. We all muttered a small yes as we spied his food with wanting eyes. “Private Blackburn, what was your favorite part?”

“The bread sir.” Blackburn’s voice rose up from behind me. That was the same voice that had whispered to me during Smith’s failed obstacle run. Blackburn. Whisperer. Got it.

“Hmmm. Yes, the bread is quite good and fluffy today. How about you, Private Griffin? What was your favorite part?”

“The bacon, sir.”

“Ah yes! The bacon might just be my favourite part too.” He replied ripping off a chunk of bacon and swallowing it greedily.

I hate you.

 

-oOo-

After we, the “men” of Dog Company, were sent back to the barracks, I was faced with a problem that I didn't expect to happen so soon; showering and changing in public. Sure, after the trial and tribulation we had just gone through, it was expected. But I clearly wasn't ready and never would be. As the guys around me started gathering their toiletries and change of clothes, I figured it would be in my best interest to hang back and NOT shower at that moment. When the last guy left, I quickly threw off my filthy clothes and cleaned myself as well as I could with what I had around me.

After cleaning with what I had in a very short amount of time, I hurriedly put on my freshly pressed uniform for the afternoon lesson, which was being held in a very small room in one of the low buildings. Walking out of my company barracks, I securely placed my hat on my head and walked to the next meeting area. On the way, I caught view of the same company from before, now standing rigidly at attention while being barraged by their apparently outraged officer.

“Makes you happy we got Matthews, doesn't it?” The same voice as before asked. Blackburn.

“No kidding. He makes Matthews look like my neighbours’ terrier.” I answered while leaning up against some random companies’ barracks cabin. Another voice suddenly spoke up.

“If I had him as my CO, I'd request to go home back to Minnesota. I'm Jackson by the way; Andrew Jackson.”

“I have a feeling every single one of those men would already jump at the chance to drop a live grenade at his feet.” Blackburn said, lighting up a cigarette and offering one to both Jackson and I.

“I hope he realizes that they just started here and don't have to be drilled like all hell.” I replied, putting the given smoke between my lips and luxuriously sucking in a mouthful of fumes.

“Weren't we just getting drilled not even an hour ago?” Jackson argued, attempting to blow smoke in my direction and missing. Blackburn exhaled the smoke through his nose airily.

“Oh, please. That was weak compared to what these unfortunate slobs are getting.” I retorted. Blackburn nodded in agreement.

“Whatever floats your boat, Griffin.” Jackson said.

Oh, he had gotten clever and gotten my name off of my tag now, had he?

Smartass.

“Let's get going before Matthews puts ours asses in a sling.”

“At least we'll get to stare at nurses that way.” Both Blackburn and Jackson laughed in unison. I had the overwhelming urge to roll my eyes.

Oh brother.

-oOo-

It was like I was never left home. At least here, I didn't have some jackass pulling at my hair while the teacher droned on about some useless math equation. No, that was then and this was definitely not then; this was the Airborne. We were being taught how to be disassemble an M1 Garand and then reassemble it. This was something I could listen to forever. Just watching Lieutenant Matthews tear the rifle apart made me think back to times where my father showed my brothers how to do the same thing while I hid out in the background and took in everything being said and stowed it in my mental vault for later. For a brief moment, I wondered how all these guys would take it if they realized that a woman whooped their asses at putting a gun back together.

“Griffin! Is my talking interrupting your daydreams of catching some tail? Say the word and I'll make it a reality.” Lieutenant Matthews shouted from the front of the makeshift classroom.

Oh fuck. I'm dead.

“No sir! Just admiring that fine piece of weaponry that you're holding.”

Beside First Lieutenant Matthews stood Lieutenant Speirs, who was studying me with that now-infamous look of his; the one that said absolutely nothing about what he was thinking and yet you still got the idea that he was thinking of all the ways he could kill you. With a rifle, with some gasoline and a Zippo, with a newspaper...

“Fine piece of weaponry, you say?” Matthews barked, a light of triumph gleaming in his eye. I was definitely fucked. “Do you find this weapon attractive, Private?” 

All eyes were on me.

Fuck me.

“Yes, sir.”

“Would you like to handle it, Private?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then why don't you come on up here and do just that?”

I slowly stood up from my chair, conveniently positioned in the middle of the room. Yet again, I could feel every single pair of eyes burning a hole at the back of my skull. As I walked up to the front of the room, the only thoughts that ran through my head were of my dad disassembling a M1 Garand to clean it and then reassembling it. Once I reached the front of the class, the gun was thrust into my arms by Matthews as he shouted out for Gomez to get into the push up position in front of everyone. “You will remain there until Griffin here can disassemble and reassemble the M1.”

I was pretty sure he wanted to embarrass me in front of all the men. Thankfully, that wasn't going to happen on my watch. My father had known far too much about rifles for that to ever happen. My hands began the familiar task; first, the trigger group was first to go, then the butt stock of the rifle was gone. Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see both Lieutenants Matthews and Speirs looking at me with different emotions. Matthews looked like he had eaten something sour... probably didn't like the fact that I was showing him up in front of all of the men. Speirs, on the other hand, was impassive as per usual. But I thought there was something in his eyes that told me he was impressed. I couldn't really tell. Little time had passed before I was cocking the newly put together M1 Garand. Gomez quickly got to his feet and into the position of attention.

Gomez was sent back to his seat. I was still standing in front of my platoon with an M1 in my hands. Matthews roughly grabbed the rifle from my grasp and told me to sit back down. I quickly scurried off back to my seat, only to be silently congratulated for showing up my CO by Blackburn and Smartass Jackson. 

-oOo-

Days turned into weeks. I'd pretty much fallen into a routine of waking up before anyone else so I could clean off the grime and sweat from the day before. There were moments when I just wanted to give up and go home or just let my fellow grunts know that I was a young woman and not a man, but that was not a choice that I had. Just as I got along with everyone in my platoon, I also seemed to have gained an enemy in Easy Company. While both companies wanted to rip each others’ throats out at any chance they got, it all had a start. Not just from natural rivalry or because we got to go to town much more than they did, but an actual start.

Here’s how it went.

“Howdy, boys.”

We were on a weekend pass, hitting up the town, which boasted absolutely no entertainment for the soldier-trainees they were so hospitably training. So there we were, sitting in the only bar in the town, shuffling cards. Blackburn, Jackson, and I had gone straight there, of course, by this time knowing the layout of the town and acquainted with the knowledge that there really was nothing else to do in the town. But the Easy boys, on one of their very rare weekend passes, had not yet wised up to this idea and were just now arriving, griping about the quietness of the streets.

“Fancy a few hands of poker?” I ask them, offering entertainment. It is my nature, you see, to help those in need.

“Fuck yeah,” one of them, a short man with dark skin and dark eyes, says.

“I dunno,” says another with an angular chin, his speech very pronouncedly accented. “We wouldn’t want you boys to embarrass yourselves by losing, now, would we?” He chuckled. I had the oddest feeling it was not at his own expense but at ours, the naive trainees of Dog Company who had innocently invited them to play poker.

“Oh, I don’t think there’s any worry of that,” I reply, attempting to act as though I had no idea that this man had just flat-out told me he was going to beat our asses at this game. He might attempt cheating if Lady Luck didn’t float his way and it was best if he didn’t think I was onto him.

“Well,” says another man with red hair and an easy smile, interrupting the silence that had stretched on for a few seconds as we all just stared at each other and tried to figure out if they would cheat. “Don Malarkey,” he pointed to himself and then at the short man with the dark eyes, “Frank Perconte,” his finger pointed towards the man with the strong accent and the angular jaw, “Bill Guarnere. Anyone else playing, boys?” The other men standing around shook their heads.

I took the initiative and introduced Blackburn, Jackson, and myself. I caught Malarkey staring at my face, as though there were something sitting not quite right with him, but I paid him no mind. If the stories were true, no one in Easy Company was quite right in the brain.

Without much further ado, we settled down to play cards. Everything was fine and dandy for a few hands. Everyone lost some, everyone won some. Guarnere had an itchy back and Perconte had a coughing problem. I finally decided I was thirsty, told Jackson to deal me out of the next hand and I went to go get myself a beer. By the time I came back, the hand was full underway, with three cards on the table and the fourth one coming, being laid down by Jackson’s left hand, which was a bit odd, since he was right-handed.

I was nearing the table, my footsteps quiet, walking behind Guarnere. But my eyes caught something; a slip of white visible between the cracks of the wooden chair Guarnere was sitting in. It was a card; the ace of hearts, to be exact. He reached up to ‘scratch his back’ once again, his fingers reaching for the ace, leaning forward ever so slightly to allow himself to reach it. But I got there first, my fingers capturing the card and holding it up.

“He’s cheating!” I exclaim. Everyone stood up simultaneously except for Malarkey; Perconte and Guarnere looked angry and about ready to fight. Blackburn and Jackson menacingly started around the table to face off with the two men from Easy Company. But then Jackson lowered his right arm down to his side from where it had been lying even at his waist. And there was a flutter of something as it fell from Jackson’s sleeve. Guarnere pounced on it and held up the ace of spades.

From then on, it was pandemonium. Fists flew, drinks were spilled, and I ended up on my ass along with four other men just because I had not joined the fight and had therefore been caught up in the scuffle and had the busted lip to prove it. We brushed ourselves off and glared at each other menacingly.

It was a hate relationship after that.

But it was the next weekend that had some importance.

“Ah, Easy Company! Hey, while you're running don't worry; we'll take care of your dates for you!” Brian Spliner yelled out from beside me. I let out a chuckle along the rest of the platoon, but not even a second later, one of the skinny guys from Easy responded back.

“Yeah that's good, they need some female company!”

Ironically, they didn't know how close they were to the truth to a certain degree. Before any of us had a chance to reply with our own halfass attempts at being witty, the men from Easy Company were running past us and knocking off the tan wedges from atop of our heads. When I felt the wedge on top of my head being assaulted, I acted on instinct and kicked out my left leg and successfully tripped the hat assaulter.

It was at the moment when everything changed; my mismatched irises locked with his big brown eyes and I felt my cheeks heat up.

He quickly scampered off after his platoon, not even glancing back, and there I was... standing in place with my eyes locked on his fleeing backside.


	3. Currahee Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited version uploaded September 10th

As rough as we thought we had it for training, it seemed like the only thing that would cure us of all the bruised shins and egos was the torture that Easy Company went through. The other companies must've felt the same way, seeing as they would go out of their way to poke fun at the Easy boys. It was a great way to relieve the stress of posing as a guy, and a welcome distraction from the embarrassing moments where my eyes drifted – of their own accord, I might add – and landed on a certain paratrooper.

Now, under certain circumstances I wouldn't have minded, but thinking about those kinds of things here wasn't the best idea – rightfully so, too, because I could imagine my mother and father going on about how it would be such a perfect match. In their words, "the both of us were carrying the Irish gene."

It was Thanksgiving today. Unfortunately, while everyone else was relaxing, polishing their boots, or cleaning their weapons, good ole' Easy Company was outside in the rain and partaking in their own festive activities – like rolling over pig intestines that littered the barbed wire course they were crawling through.

"I've been thinking," Jackson said, looking out his window at the muddy paratroopers as he spoke.

I snorted, removed the firing pin from the M1 Carbine that I'd been issued. "Dangerous," I muttered back with a lit Viceroy cigarette dangling between my lips, much to the amusement of Blackburn, Gomez, and a couple of other guys.

Jackson rolled his eyes at me. "Very funny, Grif." His gaze quickly returned to the Easy boys. "What's the point of Sobel working those guys so hard? I mean, what good does it do to run them into the ground like that?"

As Jackson rambled, I looked over at Blackburn; he was staring at me with the tiniest smirk on his face.

Why did he make it so easy?

"Why Jackson," I started with a drawl, "I didn't know you were jealous of Easy Company getting run into the ground more than you."

"You know what?" Jackson snapped. "Fuck you Griffin! Fuck you!" He then abruptly stood up, grabbed his things, and took off for some other Dog Company barracks.

Blackburn gave a loud, barking laugh. "Where you off to Andrew? Gonna see if Spliner will run you into the ground?"

The words had barely left his mouth when Gomez and I burst into laughter. I myself laughed so hard that I nearly fell off the barracks stoop. Gomez, meanwhile, continued with his raspy guffaw. "Walks right into it every time," he wheezed as he struggled to breathe normally. "He just doesn't learn, does he?"

I grinned. No, he sure didn't.

-

The day went by pretty quickly after that, and it went especially fast when the mail from loved ones came in.

Well, mail from loved ones that weren't my own, anyway.

I hadn't heard from my parents since I left New York. Believe me, while they were pretty upset over me posing as a member of the opposite sex, they were even more upset over me doing that AND leaving to train for the war. Really, the only person I had heard from was Chris, who for obvious reasons was known as Christine around camp. In being a member of the opposite sex, I had to keep up the ruse that I had a girl waiting for me at home with access to the news around town. Lately, it seemed that my parents had (wisely) told everyone that I was living with some family back in the 'homeland.' It also seemed that they weren't on speaking terms with Chris anymore – not since he'd told them what I'd done.

It seemed silly, but who could blame them? In joining the Army, I'd suddenly jeopardized the family name and possibly sent the only Griffin girl to her death. It hurt never getting a response from them, but how else would they react to something like this? How else could they react?

Of course, I'd learned to cope with the lack of communication. I figured, eh, screw them. Still, it didn't stop me from writing my latest letter, stating that I was heading off with a few friends for the weekend, that I was sorry for disappointing them for what seemed like the millionth time now, and that I would love to hear from them.

I was actually pretty surprised at how long my mother had refrained from writing me back, seeing as I was her precious baby and she'd surely write to me when my first letter arrived. It later occurred to me that my father had probably convinced her not to write me as punishment for making such a stupid decision.

Well, that, or she didn't give a flying fuck about me. I really, really hoped that that wasn't the case though.

"Room!"

The second that words was shouted, every single one of us leapt out of our bunks and stood at attention beside them. Meanwhile, the newly-promoted Captain Matthews walked down the aisle, leisurely checking to see if everything was in order before coming to a stop in front of me.

He chuckled. "Griffin, did you finally hit puberty? You look taller."

I only looked at him blankly as he – and the rest of the men – laughed. Unfortunately, he liked letting everyone know that I was shorter than the average man of my age; even worse, there wasn't a damn thing I could do to make him shut up. I just had to roll with the punches when it came to my height and lack of genetically impossible facial hair.

Finally, I crisply replied, "It would appear so, sir." Nothing more, nothing less.

It was good enough for him, as he turned on his heel and strolled back to the barracks entrance.  
He turned to face all of us now. The next words he spoke would have my stomach on edge for the rest of the day.

"All weekend passes are cancelled. We've got jump training tomorrow." Matthews eyed us again, then tacked on an "As you were" before disappearing.

As soon as he was gone, the barracks erupted with a slew of different reactions. Spliner and that smartass Jackson complained about not being able to pick up the girls from the nearby town; some of them sat down with their hands to their stomachs and their faces whiter than cake flour; and the rest of us (being Blackburn, Gomez, and myself) whooped and grinned, giddy at the thought of finally jumping from an airplane.

"Grif," Blackburn chirped as he jumped back into his bunk, "This is gonna be amazing!"

"No kidding. Can't wait to sit down in an actual gooney bird," I said before slipping under my blankets and drifting off to sleep. Hopefully, tomorrow would come soon.

-

Evidently, I'd cheered too early last night. WAY too early.

We weren't just going through the motions of jumping today. We were actually executing them, and we were executing them from a real-deal C-47 that would be flying thousands of feet over solid ground.

Last night's excitement gave way to today's pants-wetting fear. We had to jump out of a fucking moving airplane? No one warned me about this. I mean, there shouldn't have been any warning, but seriously? Who in his right mind would be bat-shit crazy enough to jump to his death and walk away and willingly jump to his death again – not once, not twice, not even three times, but five times – for a pair of jump wings?

Christ Almighty, the Airborne needed to get their shit together.

Needless to say, I got in the plane before things even really hit home for me. The take-off and flight went by in a blur, mostly because I was preoccupied with realizing that I really needed to take a piss, and that I was a complete fucking idiot, and that this was the stupidest, most suicidal thing I'd ever done – more stupid and suicidal than joining the fucking Airborne, even. I mean, nothing can be worse than flinging yourself out of a C-47 with nothing but a parachute to keep you alive, especially if previously mentioned parachute tended to be faulty more than successful.

Oh, this was so stupid.

The light beside the door flickered on after several minutes of being in the air. The roar of the wind outside the open door of the plane made it impossible to hear anything the instructor said, but we all had some idea of what we were supposed to do. We stood up and hooked our chutes to the cable running down the spine of the plane with a mixed sense of excitement and nausea-inducing dread. Here we go.

I was dealing with a whole slew of emotions as this was happening. There's simply no way to describe the feelings leading up to your first jump. Granted, the bulk of it is terror, a really full and nervous bladder, and more terror. Somewhere in the mix, though, is a rather mild sense of stubbornness and determination. I definitely felt that part. After all the bullshit I'd been through, after coming this far, I wasn't going to give up now simply because I was afraid. Fuck that. Running Currahee under our CO's watch had proven to be infinitely scarier than the soon-to-be experience of jumping out of an airplane.

We checked each other's gear, and to be completely honest, I was almost too nervous to remember what to do with my gear and what to do with someone else's gear. So, when the guy behind me patted my shoulder and yelled his yay-okay bullshit, I, not wanting to look like a brainless dumbass, patted the shoulder of the guy in front of me with a little trepidation and belted out an okay.

Seconds later, the light by the door turned green, go green, execute jump green. Holy fuck, here we really go now.

One was out. Two was out. Three was out. Four was out. One to go then it's all me –

The guy in front of me wasn't budging. He was just standing in the door with his hands on either side of the frame, resisting the instructor's shoving like his life depended on it. Now I was more pissed off than I was nervous.

"Fucker," I hissed, "you're not messing this up for me!" Then, like the idiot I was, I joined the instructor and started pushing him. I put all my weight behind it, shoved until I couldn't shove anymore…

Then, all of a sudden they guy was out the door, and it didn't occur to my body that there was nothing in front of me anymore until I tumbled out of the plane.

THERE WASN'T ANY GROUND THERE WASN'T ANY GROUND THERE WASN'T ANY GROUND HOLY FUCK HOLY FUCK HOLY FUCK HOLY FUCK I WAS GONNA DIE I WAS GONNA DIE I WAS GONNA DIE –

When my chute deployed with a loud snap, I damn-near started crying. I felt like the victim of a cruel prank, terrorized to the limit but more or less okay after all that had happened. I was okay – I was scared shitless, but I was okay. The chute had worked. I was okay. That, and I evidently didn't have to pee anymore. Quickly, I glanced down, hoping to God that I hadn't pissed my pants in the last few seconds, and was relieved to see that I hadn't. It might have been my still-present fear repressing my bladder, but frankly, I couldn't care less. I was just so goddamn fucking happy that I was still alive and –

There was pitter-pattering coming from above. I glanced up, and frowned when I noticed what looked like raindrops silhouetted against my chute. Weird, I thought. It wasn't raining, last time I checked…

I sniffed the air, and grimaced when I did. It was sour and reeked of ammonia.

Then it hit me. It wasn't rain – it was someone's urine.

Someone was pissing on my chute. Someone was fucking pissing on my chute.

I craned my neck, looked around, craned my neck some more to see who was above me. Growling, I tugged at the risers to get out of the way of the spray, and looked up again. My face pinched.

"JACKSON, YOU FUCKING SHIT-HEEL!"

-

"Attention boys!" Matthews said as he stepped into our little barracks. Every man and I stopped what they were doing and quickly snapped to attention, waiting to hear what our routinely weekend orders would be. "Listen up! Everyone who has a weekend pass, yours has been revoked. We're packing up and heading out to Atlanta in the morning. The trucks leave at zero-seven-hundred so I best not see any of you lagging behind, do I make myself clear?"

"Sir yes sir!"

He stared at us for couple more seconds before spinning around and slamming the wooden door behind him. My tense and rigid posture slacked in relaxation before I fell backwards onto my bed, letting out a tired breath, sure having last week's weekend pass revoked for jump training was fine and all but having two weekends taken from us is a different matter all together. I knew that I shouldn't be complaining about missing a messily two days, but after all the shit we go through just to be ready to fight this war - you'd think that they wouldn't want to tire us out by working to the bone but look at Easy Company. They seem to be Colonel Sink's pride and joy and they were missing weekend passes left and right. If they could do it, why not us?

-

I was up bright and early before everyone else, as usual, so I could my shower that I was suppose to take yesterday with everyone but opted out so I could clean my M1. I think some are starting to get suspicious of why I don't shower with them but thankfully none of them are vocal about it, at least when I'm around. My early morning ritual was almost ruined when I almost stepped into the line of sight of Colonel Sink and Easy Company's Captain Sobel. Apparently whatever they were talking about was too important to wait until the ride to Atlanta.

"Herbert, I want to prove our country how fine our boys have been training. The Japanese think that they have the toughest fighting force for breaking a long distance marching record, but your men are going to prove otherwise. You're going to forgo the drive to Atlanta and march it instead." Sink explained as he and Sobel walked between the barracks. I looked in the direction of the showers then in the direction of where the two men disappeared to before returning to the task I came outside so early to do. The whole way there I made sure there was no one around to see me or follow me out of suspicion of what I was doing out so early.

While in the shower washing off yesterday's grime, it gave me time to think about what I had overheard.

I mean really, who in their right mind would make a company march 100 miles, give or take, to prove that you've been trained well? Sure it'll show how good your PT has been but that's it. By the time they'd get to Atlanta they would be too exhausted and won't be able to do anything the other companies were doing. Sometimes I really don't understand how a CO's mind works.

The morning horn knocked me from my thoughts and back to the task of getting the hell dressed and out of shower room before some GI got an eyeful of something that shouldn't be found on a supposed man or on that particular military base. I nearly escaped being found out when some of guys from Item burst through the door with their towels and change of clothes to find me tying my boots up on one of the shower room benches. Most went on to do their business but one, he stood there regarding me oddly.

"Griffin what are you doing here so early?" he asked as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. I calmly stood upright and answered his question without breaking a sweat.

"Just making sure to avoid the shower rush so I don't end up late for trucks McPherson; you should have done the same." I joked patting him on the shoulder and spinning him in the direction of the showers.

That was a close one.

The walk back to my barracks was uneventful as all the other companies boys were all trying to get their wake up showers completed and once again my good ol' pals Jackson, Gomez, Spliner and Blackburn were mixing it up with our 'best friends' from Easy Company.

Men.

Sighing I pushed my way to the heart of the scuffle before grabbing a hold of both Spilner's and the blue-eyed fine specimen's shirts and pulling them apart. "Relax both of you! This isn't the time or place for this; we don't want our CO's breathing down our necks!" I shouted over their cries. Spilner was having none of it and tried to make another pass at Donald Malarkey, Mr. Brown Eyes. With more force than I intended I pushed Spilner back, making fall on his behind. "Don't push it Brian," I warned. The pushing incident caused the men of Easy Company to laugh at Brian's misfortune. Fortunately I wasn't going to let them off the hook either. "Don't know why you boys are laughing, we aren't the ones to have to walk to Atlanta." They stopped laughing and looked at me in confusion, for they didn't know what I was talking about. "What, don't you know? Shame Sobel doesn't let you in on what he and Sink plan for you guys." It was now our turn to laugh at their worried and troubled faces.

Just as my platoon and I were climbing into the back of our truck the miserable men of Easy Company marched past us in full gear just as I had promised. "Enjoy the walk boys!" Jackson called from his seat by the truck tailgate. If looks could kill than Smartass Jackson would have been six feet under. Soon though, the man marched passed us and we fell into a comfortable silence that filled the bed of the truck. Most of the guys just fell asleep, hoping the hour and a half drive would do them some good. Me on the other hand – I adjusted the helmet on my head and checked out the sights of my carbine, making sure that no rust whatsoever on the precious metal. I also checked the folding stock on it seeing as my CO's always wanted to catch if there was any dirt or rust. But like the sights, it was perfect.

-

When we arrived at the outskirts of Atlanta there wasn't much for us to do seeing as we had to wait for good old Easy to catch up with us so we could head out to Camp Mackall where our next step in our training would be, or so our Captain says.

After we got to Mackall we were given the night off, so once again every single guy in the 101st was flooding the closest town hoping to hook up with the closest thing in tights. Which is how I found myself alone, sitting at the bar signaling for another beer while all my friends were out wooing the doe eyed girls. Just as I was receiving another glass of beer, the seat beside me was filled with another paratrooper.

"So what's good here for beer?" the man asked me. My eyes shifted in his direction mid gulp and almost chocked when my brain processed who it was. I quickly wiped my mouth and placed my glass on the counter in front of me.

"The, uh, Budweiser is okay I guess?"

"One Bud!" Donald Malarkey signaled the bartender turning back towards me. "So tell me, why are you over here by yourself when there's a bunch of girls over there eyeing you?"

I spun around on my bar stool and lo and behold there they were, staring me down. I spun around again took hold of my beer and gulped down some more of it; trying to get the image of girls fawning over me out of my head. "Not interested."

"I can understand that."

I rose an eyebrow in question. "Oh really?" That was something you don't see every day, guys were always after one thing at times like this.

"I was raised by my mother and sisters. They taught me how to how to respect a lady." A small smile graced my face at that. It was refreshing to see a guy who didn't see us girls like a piece of meat. "Why are you smiling like that? It's not a big deal or anything." he asked nervously and a smirk appeared on my face.

"Nothing buddy, I respect that is all." I took another sip of my beer before pointing at a few other men from Easy Company who were just as wrapped up with the girls as my friends were. "I just wouldn't tell your little pals that."

"You don't think they'll respect it?" He chuckled and glanced at the men in question. "You might be right, actually." I laughed softly and watched as he stared at his drink. "You know, I think we got off a bit on the wrong foot. With the fight and everything. Well, fights. And as for them, they might seem like a couple of jackasses, but they're good guys. I promise."

I considered him for a moment. It couldn't hurt to have friends outside of Blackburn the wise-ass and that shit-heel Jackson. "Alright." I smiled. "I suppose I can give you another shot." Blue-Eyes smiled and held out his hand toward me. I gave it a quick shake. "I'm not going to make any promises though."

"Hey, that's the least I could ask for."

-

Mackall was basically another Toccoa, where lessons were held and drills were done and yet again we were housed in little wooden shacks with zero privacy. Thankfully, I've mastered my morning routines at this point so I didn't really fear being caught by any of the guys. Most of the time I would find myself either in on base learning things that already had been taught, or in some small town bar with my friends trying to not be the object of the town girls attention - which was pretty hard considering they seemed to flock in my direction during every weekend.

The only highlights of Mackall were when companies were put against each other for field simulations. Currently my platoon and I were seated in separate piles of tall grass waiting for the opposite platoon who we were up against. All we've done so far was reach our position of ambush and wait for out competition to get angsty and come to us. I'd have to say that I was the one getting angsty, I kept glancing at my wrist watch and adjusting the sights on my carbine. All the other guys seem to be in the same boat as me, because all I could hear was the sound of constant rustling. Sure, the newly promoted Captain Matthews' plan of waiting for the enemy out was a sound one, but damn, did it have to be so boring?

Out of nowhere the sound of leaves and branches being crushed under dozens of feet fell upon us. Soon after helmets peaked out over the hill only to reveal East Company's second platoon. The grass pile in front of me rose and so I followed suit. The men of Easy Company stopped in their tracks at the sight of our guns point in their direction. An officer walked out to the always loved Captain Sobel, demanding the name of his outfit. All the rest was lost on my ears as a hand smacked me on the back.

"Any longer and you would have gone AWOL, Griffin," Gomez joked nudging my shoulder.

"You're the one too talk, what were you doing in your pile? Having a party?" I replied tipping the helmet back on my head.

"Yeah, a party in his pants," Spliner said in passing. My eyebrows shot up into my hairline at the comment, these types of conversations seemed to be a big part of my life these days and I've had to learn to deal with it.

"You, you, you, you and you." I turned around to see the platoon leaving except five men who were 'wounded'.

"Well, well it looks like you guys lose again," one of the guys yelled out from the back.

"I'd like to see you have Sobel as your officer you putz," Guarnere growled back. As always boys will be boys and all I could do was shake my head at their childish behavior. That was when I noticed that, for God knows what reason, Malarkey was staring at me. It was making me feel uneasy.

"Can I help you, Malarkey?" I asked poking him with the barrel of my carbine.

"What?" He seemed to snap back into reality and pushed my rifle away. "No I was just thinking." he replied.  
"I swear you guys are all fucked in the head." I said with a small scoff.

"Now what's that suppose to mean?" Malarkey retorted a little too defensively.

"Exactly as what it's supposed to mean. Do you not understand English now?" I rolled my eyes and pushed his shoulder. "It's a joke. Lighten up a little, Malarkey."Although I did fully believe that Easy Company was full of men who were fucked in the head. They had to be.

-

As we were ordered, we made sure to be ready to leave by zero-seven-hundred hours. So here I am in my dress uniform and duffel-bag over my shoulder, walking over to where my Company truck was parked when I passed a group of Easy boys discussing their ever so loved commanding officer.

"You got to admit he's got no chance. Either Krauts will get him or one of us." A blond Easy Company soldier said from his squatting position on the ground.

"You know I'm always fumbling with grenades, one might just go off by accident," the always skinny Leibgott joked. I stopped at the comment and turned my head around in shock, it seemed I wasn't the only one who took notice at the talk of a possible mutiny. Easy Company's sergeant Lipton stopped for a quick second before commencing his walk to where ever he was going, I quickly took off after him.

"Sergeant, I know it's none of my business but aren't you going to say something?" I inquired adjusting my duffel on my shoulder.

"No it isn't any of your business corporal, but read nothing into what they said. I've known those boys for almost a year now and they're just blowing smoke. Rest assured that if I was worried that they'd pull something I'd let the necessary people know." He gave me a polite nod before leaving me standing there. No sooner after he left that my band of misfits showed up demanding what I was talking to the Easy NCO.

"Just telling him how much his company is fucked up," I joked. Spliner looked at me in amazement.

"Really?"

"No Brian, you dumb fuck. You really think I'd tell someone of a higher rank how his company is fucked?!" He stuttered a for a few seconds before I cut him off. "Just get on the truck, Brian, before you make a fool of yourself again."

It wasn't long before the trucks began to pull out towards our next destination that happened to be a train that would deliver us to a harbour in New York, from what I'm told. In a way, I would be going back to where everything began for me.

"Hey, Sammy boy, you think when we get to New York you can introduce us to some birds?"

Not good, mayday!

"Jackson, do you really think that were going to be given the time of day to do anything we want when we get to New York? And if we did do you really think any girl would be interested in you?" Blackburn said before I could process a response of my own.

"If you weren't such a smart ass, then maybe you'd have a chance. But it's too damn bad that you are one." Gomez threw in, throwing an empty pack of smokes at Jackson.

-

The moment we arrived in New York was a constant reminder of how I had to hide my identity from people who saw me with short hair before I left. Sadly all the guys wanted to cruise the town, see Times Square, Central Park, everything! Why did I have to live so close to these places? The sightseeing went down without a hitch but the stop at a bar that was voted upon wasn't going to end well. Of course I voted against going to Landmark Tavern because it being so close to where I lived and it's where all of my friends hung out. But I was the only one and so here I am, sitting in the middle of Landmark's, hiding my face with my hand. Smart Ass Jackson was chatting up a blond girl who was sitting in his lap. Said blond girl who happened to be my brother's ex...so being sneaky is a good thing at this point because if she caught a look at me I would be made in a second. I quickly sat up and slid out from the booth, apparently stealth wasn't my strong suit because Blackburn, Gomez and Spliner were loudly asking where I was going.

"Just going to get another beer, don't wait up for me guys," I joked, quickly chugging the rest of my piss warm beer to prove that I was in need of another. Weaving through the drunken and tipsy masses, I stopped and ordered another beer. The bartender quickly took my money and served me another chilled glass of the amber liquid. Taking the glass, I took a huge gulp of the beer and continued walking away from the table I was previously occupying and stopped in front of the pay phone that was hung in the corner of the establishment. I put my glass of beer down the counter beside the pay phone and started fishing a quarter out of my pocket and inserting it in the coin slot. The phone rang after I dialed for a couple of seconds before a sleepy voice came from the other end.

"Hello?"

"Chris?"

"Sammy is that you?"

"Who else would call you in the middle of the night?" I laughed as I took a quick glance behind me at the table where my friends were seated.

"Is there something wrong? Did someone find out?"

"Nothing like that Chris, I'm in New York and this was the only time I could get away and call you."

"You're back home? For how long?" Chris' voice excitingly asked.

"We're sailing to England tomorrow night. I was sort of hoping that you would be able to come see me tonight, only if you weren't tired of course."

"I wouldn't miss seeing you for the world Sammy. Where are you at?"

"Where any person from Hell's Kitchen would be at this time, Chris," I joked.

"Landmark's it is, I'll see you soon."

After hanging up the phone I picked up my glass of beer and prepared to venture back over to my friends. Only fate didn't want me to apparently because some random girl latched onto my arm.

By the time I was able to get her off of me and convince her that I was not interested, Chris had arrived. A feeling of relief washed over me when I saw him, I no longer had to pretend to be someone I'm not. I could be Samantha once again without the fear of being shot. I had seen him lingering at the entrance of the building making sure that it wouldn't seem I was leaving with anyone. "Listen guys I'm going to head out, you guys know the way back right?" The men in question just waved me off because their attention was too busy being held by two blond tramps. I quickly swallowed the rest of my beer before shrugging on my dress jacket and pulling my wedge out of one of the pockets.

When Chris' eyes caught mine I could see the happiness in them from missing me after all this time. I brushed pass him on my way out and put my wedge on my head before waiting out front of Landmark's. No sooner than a minute later, out walked Chris and I was soon engulfed in a bear hug. I savoured it for a quick few seconds before realizing that this wasn't the place for such affection and I pulled out of the hug with a apologetic smile on my face. He smiled back showing that he understood completely. He lightly threw a jab at my shoulder before starting to walk and we headed off down the busy street. I stuck my hands in my pant pockets and turned toward him.

"So tell me how are my parents doing?" He shrugged in return.

"What can I tell you? All their kids are out fighting and they have to worry about you the most." I sighed in response and reached into my jacket and pulled out a packet of Viceroy cigarettes and slipped one of the tobacco sticks between my lips. "Since when did you start smoking?" Chris asked in mild amazement. I exhaled the smoke through my nose and turned to look at him.

"Stress. You trying being woman pretending to be a man. It's pretty damn stressful."

"I don't doubt it. Sammy, listen I know you've been avoiding it but I think you should do it before anything else."

"And what's that Chris?"

"Don't play dumb with me Samantha Griffin."

-

So after playing dumb for a bit longer, Chris dragged me off to my parents' apartment where he urged me to stand in a spot that could be seen from their apartment balcony while he went off to in tell my parents that they should go have a looksie on the balcony. I was torn between pulling out another smoke as I paced because I knew if my parents saw me smoking on top of being dressed in my uniform, that would send them over the edge big time. What seemed to be hours turned out to bed a couple of minutes when the apartment door to the balcony opened and three people stepped out. Two of the three people's body language was very aggressive toward each other before I realized that my parents had been very angry with my best friend when they found out he was the one who made it possible for me to be a part of the military. Chris started gesturing over the railing and it turned into slow motion after that. Both my mother and father's heads turned towards where he was pointing and everything happened right there and then. I saw my mother's hands fly to her face and cover her mouth as tears enveloped her, my father who was never a emotional person just turned around and marched right back through the door. My mother soon followed after him and Chris after her.

As I stood there, staring up at the balcony, I wondered if maybe I should run up there and go see talk to them myself. Did they even want to see me? Their reactions said otherwise. Either way, something told me that if I did that, I'd never leave. So, I waited and lit up another one of my Viceroy's to calm my nerves. It wasn't before long when Chris returned but this time with a box in his possession, he handed it to me without hesitation whatsoever. I held my cigarette between the corner of my mouth and proceeded to opened the smallish wooden box. What was inside it shocked the hell out of me as my smoke fell away from my now open mouth. It was my father's Browning M1911 semi-automatic pistol – it was his pride and joy and he was giving it to me. Normally something like this wouldn't be such a big deal but he didn't give that gun to either Tim or Gerald claiming it would only be passed on to a true soldier. Tears obstructed my vision as I handled the firearm. It meant so much more than any other weapon I've been given or handled because that handgun was a symbol of a father's love...a blessing. I looked up to see both my parents staring down at me, arms tightly wrapped around each other. With a tear stained face a blew them a kiss and mouthed 'I love you' in hopes that they would see it before I placed the M1911 back into its wooden case.

As much as I wanted to stay and look up at my parents forever, I knew curfew was quickly approaching and I knew if I wanted to make it back in time and spend those dying few moments with Chris, I'd have to leave now.

"I will make it – don't you doubt that for a second. I will make it back to be with you guys when this hell is over!" I spun and briskly walked away with Chris on my tail as I knew if I stayed any longer I would lose total composure. Sadly the walk back to where I was to stay for the night was a silent one as Chris didn't push me to say anything because he knew what emotional turmoil I was going through at that moment. He just threw an arm over my shoulders as we maneuvered through the still bustling streets of New York City. By the time we got to the barracks, the guys who I ditched at the bar managed to make it back just as we did and they were clearly intoxicated.

"Chris I don't want them to start something with you and get all the MPs involved, getting us all fucked. I will write you as much as I can okay?"

He gave me a tight smile and held out his hand and I tightly grasped it before lightly smacking his back and gave him one last glance before hurrying past the MPs that were stationed in front of the barrack's doors. Before actually going through the doors, I took a chance at looking back at Chris. He was still standing there looking at me and waiting for me to pass through the doors before leaving himself. I gave him a small wave that he quickly returned before I retreated through the doors, thus making this the last time I could possibly see him ever again.


	4. Currahee Part Three

I could only wish that this damned boat ride would end shorter rather than later. I could definitely say that I wasn't a fan of boat rides; the constant rocking from the waves sent my stomach churning in a rather unpleasant manner. The converted mail liner and passenger ship, named the Samaria, sailed to England with an overcrowded shipment of paratroopers. After being jam-packed with 5000 soldiers from the 506th on a ship that was original made for 1000 passengers, it was destined to be a miserable journey. Sadly, fresh water was highly rationed and we could only drink the much-loved water in specified fifteen-minute intervals; giving us a glorified grand total of an hour and a half a day of drinking. Since that precious water was such a high commodity on the vessel, we were forced to run the cold oceanic salt water through the showers. We, the soldiers of the 506th were forced to wear our lifejackets all time - incase of the worst case scenario that we hit a mine that was left behind by a U-boat or faced a U-boat itself. Along with our life jackets, were to wear our cartridge belts with canteens attached; thus making us constantly bang into each other. The sleeping arrangements weren't much of a improvement either; two people per bunk wasn't something that anyone wanted. Every other day bunkmates would switch who got to sleep in the bunk and who had to sleep in a hallway or on the floor somewhere. When I was forced to sleep out of the bunk, I would take to sleeping outside the bathrooms so I could use any clear time to get a shower in myself.

"Hit me."

A card flew out of the hand of one of the guys from Able who was playing the role of the dealer and landed on the deck in front of me and I was to face with a do or die decision; go for the decently sized pot of money and ask for yet another card or play it safe with the 17 I had and stay. The other guys were split with some having an air of confidence surrounding them, while the other half with looks of concern. For me, I'm going with the safe route and staying. When it came down to the moment of truth, I naturally came out short to the loud mouth Jew; Liebgott. The whole game he wouldn't shut his trap about how Guarnere had basically insulted him the other night by saying that their captain, Herbert Sobel, was also a Jew. This came as old news to me because it was my night to have the bunk; I had a front row seat to the madness that erupted between the two men.

What had happened was that I had been laying on my hanging canvas bed chatting with the guy in the bunk next to me. He was a guy from Easy, surprisingly enough, named Philip Pergugine and we were getting along alright. He pulled out two smokes and held out one of his Strikes for me to take. My face twitched in disgust at the sight of the much loved brand; unlike most of the men, I couldn't stand them. "No offence, Pergugine, but I'm not a fan Lucky Strikes." He opened his mouth to reply when shouting commenced below us. We both shared a look of utter confusion and peered over our designated beds to get a glimpse at the commotion that was down below. From our vantage point we could see that a group had formed to try and separate two soldiers that had begun brawling. I gave Pergugine a questioning look, which he quickly picked up on and began climbing down the rack of beds to find out what started the shoving match. I reached under my pillow and pulled out my prized Viceroy's and lit one up just as Pergugine pulled himself up onto his bed, and turned to face me. "Guarnere called Sobel a Jew and Lieb took offence because he's a Jew too."

I rolled my eyes and let a little snort of disbelief. "That's smart; fighting over The Black Swan."  
Back to the game, I had finally had enough of Liebgott's constant complaining about the fight. I blew the smoke from my cigarette out of my nose and gave him a look. 

"Joe, maybe it wouldn't have happened if you let his comment go."

"What did you say?" He asked in disbelief.

"That if you shut your damn mouth every once in a while, you wouldn't get a fist in your eye." I replied, flicking the ash off the tip of my cigarette.

"Where do you get off telling me that, Griffin?"

"Where do I get off? I just need you to just shut up, so I can actually hear myself think." Liebgott angrily tossed his cards at me and abruptly stood up and towered over me. The area around us grew silent as everyone stopped their own gambling to watch the scene unfold I slowly stood up and glanced up to stare him in the eye. 

"You asked for my opinion by bitching about your drama for the last few games and I gave it to you. If you can't take it than get out of here - we're trying to play cards."

The air around us seemed to change, as both of us grew hostile, each of us were waiting for the other to make the first move. Out of nowhere, Easy Company's Irish man pushed through the crowd and pushed himself in between us; preventing us from harming each other. 

"Joe, you know better than this. Get out of here before the rest of the guys show up and we have a fight on our hands." The Jewish man backed off after a moment of hesitation. While Malarkey's attention was on his fellow soldier, my eyes wandered on over his form on their own accord. He suddenly turned towards me and my face heated up and I quickly averted my eyes elsewhere. Once again, he gave me a pondering look just like he did back at Camp MacKall. "Listen, is there something up with you? You keep giving me all these looks."

Oh shit.

"Don't know what to tell you, Malarkey; you must be imaging things." I smiled and pat his shoulder before quickly making my getaway.

As I left the red head standing there by himself, I could hear him muttering softly, "Yeah...imaging things."

-

By the time we docked, everyone was about to go stir crazy. The trip had been so long and crowded that it would have made a saint do something definitely not saintly and so it was a huge relief when we were able to step on solid ground again. When we got to Albourne, I was expecting that we would be housed in the traditional wooden makeshift barracks - but instead we were told that we were told that would be quartered with families that resided in Albourne. To me, this was a godsend because it meant that I could finally shower behind a lockable door. I found myself housed with a small family of three; the father was a veteran from the first war who found his passion in farming - he owned a herd of cows in one of the many fields, the mother worked in the bakery that was in the center of the small town, and finally was their daughter, she was 17 years old and helped her mother at the bakery.

The training this time around was given in turns, meaning that in a day we'd rotate between digging offensive or defensive positions, kill or capture missions, hand to hand combat training, theoretical equipment training and sand table studies while another company would be doing something completely different and we'd switch. We could be doing hand-to-hand combat training from 5am to noon then be stuck in a classroom for the next few hours with Lieutenant Welsh. Today my platoon was on hand to hand training in the morning and one of the classroom lessons in the afternoon, before we're given the evening off...if we're lucky and we usually are. During the hand to hand training, a fist came towards my face and I had been hoping to grab the incoming limb and twist it behind its owner's back. My plan backfired and I got an eyeful of fist in the face instead. The guys who had witnessed my fuck up got a good laugh out of it, and I knew I'd most likely get a black eye for my failed efforts. A mark of shame to carry around for a little while.

"While standing with your back to the attacker, you'll wait until you feel the attackers hand on your shoulder and when you do - you'll use your hip as leverage and flip the attack over your back and onto the ground." And of course I would be chosen as a attacker this time, I'd have broken back to go with my already blackening eye. On the training officers go, I placed my hand on Jackson's shoulder and quickly found myself on my back with my lungs begging for the air to return to them. "No! You want to kill him!" The training officer yelled while pretending to punch me in the face.

"Mission accomplished." I gasped, finally catching my breath again. Jackson snatched my hand and hauled me back to my feet. Spliner smacked me on the back for good measure and I let out a strangled cough. The guys laughed, finding a hilarity in it that I didn't.  
"You doing alright there, Griffy?" Spliner teased, the rest of them snickering still. "Or do we need to call for a medic?" I spared him a single middle finger before returning back to watching how the training was going.

After my "near death" experience and lunch, we were sent off to learn from 2nd Lieutenant Welsh from Easy Company.

"Who can tell me what magnetic declination is? Anyone?" As per usual no on volunteered. "Griffin how abo- jezzus what happened to your face? Some limey broad pop you in the eye?" The sound of chuckles filled the room.

"No sir, but that would have been a better explanation." I answered whilst poking the bruised skin gently.

"I'm sure it's a story to tell, but back to magnetic declination; what is it?"

I cleared my throat and answered. "The angle between compass north and truth north, sir."

"That's right, the angle between magnetic north and geographic north..." Welsh's voice droned on for a couple hours in which we learned the add, subtract rule - so we could put into practice for when it was our turn to go hunting for the 'German target'.

-

By the time I got back to the house where I staying out, the family accommodating me were just settling down for supper and Mr. Watson was seething at the of the table. I stopped at the doorway of dining room and one look at the man set off warning bells in my head. "Should I come back later?" I inquired, slightly unnerved at what was to come.

"Of course not, Samuel. Please sit down and join us." Mrs. Watson replied with a tight-lipped smile.  
"It's not a big deal, I could ju-"

"Mr. Griffin, its fine." The stern voice of Mr. Watson responded. I quickly scrambled in the remaining seat that was next to the youngest of the Watson clan, Sarah.

"So, Mr. Griffin, what did your training today consist of?" Mr. Watson said going straight for the jugular. I think I knew what this was about.

"I was at the manor all day sir." I explained while placing a napkin over my lap.

"Oh really? So, you have no idea how my fence came to being cut and having my cattle scattered?" he demanded loudly.

"I may have heard of the incident and ran into some of the cows." I replied sinking into my seat. This man was scarier than my father and Captain Matthews combined, no doubt.

"Eat your potatoes, Samuel. You need to keep your strength up." Mrs. Watson said, breaking me out of my thoughts. I dug into my plate of food with vigour, the hunger caused from a busy day of getting punched, thrown to the ground and classroom time caused my appetite to grow immensely to keep up with all the calories that I've been burning. Halfway to bringing another forkful of Mrs. Watson's wonderful food to my mouth, I felt a hand snake its way on to my thigh and squeeze. I nearly choked on my mouthful of food before I quickly extracted the young girls hand from my lap and shifted my body over in the other direction of the young girls groping hands before nervously eating again.

The dinner went on fast as it could considering how ridiculously tense the environment was. Young Sarah Watson excused herself while Mr. Watson went to calm himself down in his study leaving me alone with Mrs. Watson. "So tell me Samuel, any lucky ladies back home?"

Oh jeez, she's just like my mother

"That's a negative ma'am, I haven't found the one for me yet." I replied picking up both Sarah's plates and mine from the table.

"Oh dear, you don't need to bother yourself with that." Mrs. Watson cried reaching for the dirty plates in my grasp. I quickly maneuvered out of reach and cracked a smile.

"I need to help you with something since you've graciously opened your home to me." I insisted passing her on my way to the kitchen.

"But a guest shouldn't be doing the chores." She argued, finally taking the plates from me.

"Tell you what, Mrs. Watson, you can pay me back by letting me sample the food at the bakery." I bargained stealing the plates back.

She let out a laugh and agreed. "Such the charmer you are, Samuel. I just wish my Sarah could find a catch like you."

I let out nervous laugh. She'd have to just keep wishing.

-

The atmosphere in the small town tavern held the sense energy and happiness even in this time of war, the night the tavern held an abundance of American soldiers and an enormous amount of town women who were quite lonely with all the English men sent off to fight; thus contributing to the ecstatic mood of the establishment. Just as quickly as I entered through the door, I was being called over to one of the many crowded tables, to a table where there weren't many seats left...one seat to be available to be precise. By the time I sat down, a drink was already poured and shoved in front of my face.

"So Sammy, how did ol' man Watson take the news about his cows and fence?" Blackburn shouted at me, trying to out scream the noisiness of the tavern.

"Not too well you'd imagine." I shouted back before taking a sip of my beer.

"Well, at least you got something to look at, I'm housed with two geezers; that daughter Watson's got has a nice ass on her." Gomez spoke loudly from beside me.

"She's a kid guys! She's barely able to drink." I screeched...in a manly way of course.

"Kid or not, her hot ass is making her way toward us." Blackburn said loudly pointing behind me. I didn't even have time to turn and look because the next thing I knew, the daughter of the man's house where I was sleeping sat down on my lap.

On my lap.

Oh my god, I'm going to be shot. I could already feel the barrel of the old man's shotgun pressed to the back of my skull as she shifted around on my lap to get comfortable...or to try to make a part of my make believe anatomy wake up.

Be cool, don't make them suspicious.

"You... Sarah, you, what..." I babbled. Great going, that wasn't at all suspicious. I didn't get to finish my attempt at greeting her because she reached forward grabbed my face to begin inspecting my black eye. Her hands traced over my discoloured cheek and the looks I was getting from the guys were not making the situation any better. Heat filled my face out of pure embarrassment and the look on Sarah's face proved that she taken my red face has a completely different meaning. Her hands soon began to wonder down a little down to far south and if I let her hands go to their final destination, there would be a very different outcome than what they were seeking. My hands snapped over her dangerous wandering hands and snatched them quickly away to safety. "You know, Sarah, it's getting pretty late isn't it?" I laughed nervously, my hands gripping Sarah's.

"You just got here, how about you have another drink?" She winked devilishly and drank from one of the newly refilled glasses of beer.

"Come on Sammy boy - staying here and getting to know Ms. Watson here is the least you can do. She is giving up her home to accommodate you." My oh-so-good friend Andrew said, smirking. I smiled weakly at the young British girl and got a beaming one in return.

Oh boy.

If I had a choice in the matter, she would have been dumped onto the tavern floor and I would be running out the door, but as always life's a bitch and I was stuck here in agony. I stiffly reached for my glass of beer while my other hand was currently occupied being held captive by the British girl, who was rubbing her thumb across the top of my hand. All of the other guys at the table had either their laps or attention occupied with some girl now. Personally, I couldn't understand the appeal of fawning over some overconfident soldier who was only looking for one thing. Maybe that's because now I had an inside view of exactly what soldiers were really like, but even before, when I was back home miserable about the role I was expected to fill, the men in uniform who crowded the bar stopped at nothing to get some girl to fall for their sob story about how they might die tomorrow and that they should make the night special.

Just the thought of what Sarah was expecting to happen between us enough to make my beer taste bad. I had only two options. Stay here and endure the constant chase that Sarah seems to be so keen on pursuing or get the hell out of this bar and away from her and her grabby little hands. "Well, I'm done for the night, just going to bring young Sarah home, and I'll see you guys tomorrow." The faces I received from my platoon mates was priceless, for they thought that I was finally going to jump on the chance to sleep with a girl. Sarah obviously thought the same thing because she had a predatory look in her eyes that frightened the hell out of me. She got off from my lap and giggled to her friends while I stood up and threw on my jacket and headed to the door. The moment I passed through the doorway I was pushed up against the wall and my grunt of pain was smothered by a pair of lips. I mentally shrieked and wrestled Sarah off me.

"What is your problem? You've been throwing me all the signs that you want this as much as I do." Sarah said loudly.

"What? No, I'm not like that!" I shouted back. Straightening my jacket and placing my wedge upon my head - she give me a crazed look.

"Not like that?! Are you...are you gay?" she whispered at me with a horrified look. My face soon matched hers.

"Not at all!"

"So you're a virgin." She deduced as the only reason.

"Yeah, let's go with that." I sighed.

"You know that's nothing to be ashamed of." She reached to grab my hand, which I pulled out of her reach when I saw she was reaching for it again.

"No, I know... it's just..." I chewed on my lip. How the hell was I going to get out of this?

"What? " Her hands were resting on her hips and she was staring at me.

"Listen, I would... I would love to be with you, but I've got... I've got a lot of itching down there and I don't thi-" I didn't even have to finish my sentence to know that had been enough. I could only hope she wouldn't tell anyone else, I could already see the taunting faces of the other men if they thought I had some kind of venereal disease. "Look, let's just get you home. You're parents will be mad enough that you were out this late, I'd hate to see what they'd do to us if they knew that you were trying to sleep with me."

-

Today was the day that we were waiting for but really dreading, the day of the jump. Or at least we hoped it would be the day of the jump. We had just finished a 24 hour stand down from when we were originally supposed to jump and none of us really wanted to postpone it any longer. They handed out ice cream and airsickness pills and now all we could do was sit and wait for the order; there were few things to do other than sit around with all the equipment that weighed as much as we did. A shiver went down my spine because of my freshly cut Mohawk. What little hair I had before had kept me warm from the chilling English channel air, but it was mostly gone now.

"Hey Grif, think you could check my equipment one last time?" One of the smaller guys from my platoon asked spinning around so I could see his picture perfect chute bag. I looked up from the note I was writing to my folks that I would keep of my person in case that I died.

"Ed, buddy, for the third time. Its fine, go eat some ice cream if you're that nervous." I gave him a small kind smile to try to ease his nervousness.

"Yeah, Eddie, and if your chute fails, you'll always have your reserve chute."

"Andrew, what the hell man!" Me and a bunch of the guys yelled

"What? Its true!" He argued back. One of the other men gave him one last scolding look before turning to comfort the now trembling Ed.

Just as I stood up to get up and get away and move to sit somewhere else away from the jackass, a voice rose up over everyone else. A voice that gave the order for us to head to our specific C-47's so we could get into our groups. Everything went by in a silent blur as men upon men filed past each other to their respective planes, the faces were empty of emotions and feelings. We just sat in front of Matthews who by looks of things was giving a very riveting speech but I head none of it because all that was on my mind was how my parents were doing, how my brothers were doing with their part of the war. The next thing I knew I was being pulled from the ground and ushered up the ladder into the C-47.

The rumbling of plane engines soon started up, filling the whole sitting area with an almost humming lullaby. For some, the pills quickly took effect, making some of the men's eyes to grow heavy. For others like me, we were struck being alert and jumpy. The planes started rolling down the tarmac signaling the journey of our lives was about to begin. Little nervous Eddie struggled to light his cigarette, I reached into my pocket that held my lighter but stopped when my hand bushed against the note to my parents. I brushed away the thoughts of my parents aside because this isn't the time and place to have doubts about with what I've done. I plucked the lighter out of the confines of my pants and reached over and lit the poor man's smoke.

I clutched the lighter in my hand as the massive plane began to lift off the ground, soon we'd all be fighting for our lives and the lives others. I closed my eyes knowing that a nap would make the wait go by so much faster, thus making my anxiety levels much more tolerable.

-

I was violently knocked awake when the plane suddenly changed course making the guy next to me topple into me. My eyes snapped open just as the red light turned on.

"Stand up!" The twelve off us stood up.

"Hook up!" We reached up snapped on the hook that was attached to our chutes.

"Equipment check!" I reached out in front of me and searched for any errors that would cause our whole jump to stall.

"Sound off equipment check!" Voices sounded off in tandem, letting us know that so far everyone's gear was picture perfect. A few sturdy taps of my on my shoulder and shout of 'four okay!' in my ear let me know that I was good to go. I reached up and smacked the guy in front of me on the back.

"3 okay!" Shortly the last two guys gears was checked and verified to be okay.

The red light switched to green.

The shouts of go echoed through me as one by one men jumped out of a plane. When it got to my turn at the door - I finally registered the reason why the plane changed direction suddenly.

Flak.

"Go! Go!"

The solid structure under feet vanished and I was left free falling.

One thousand. Two thousand. Three thousand. Four thousand.

My descent was slowed by the sudden jolt of my chute opening.

Pulling on the risers I navigated my way away from the oncoming fire from the 88's so I could aim for a clearing to land safely. Looking up I could see a C-47 sail towards the ground set ablaze. Small specks of light fell away from the plane and I could only wonder if those balls of light were parts off a plane or good men whose lives were ended too shortly.

The distance from the ground diminished greatly decreased and a breath of relief left my lips. I closed my eyes for just a short moment when a tearing sound was heard, I quickly looked above me to see the canopy that had so far kept me safe up until this moment rip before my own eyes.

The air sped passed me as the chute veered off course, the next thing I knew I was suddenly soaked.


	5. Days of Days Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank my new Beta who I sadly forgot to mention in the last chapter; the glorious Kattyb101. Be sure to check out her story The Heat of War, its amazing! Anyway, have fun reading the newest chapter!
> 
> So don't be afraid of hitting that comment button and letting me know.
> 
> Until next time!

I landed in some random river while surrounded by the Wehrmacht who were unrelenting with their attempts at shooting the C-47s out of the sky with their 88s. I quickly untangled myself from my soaked parachute that threatened to swallow me whole and drag me under the shallow water. As silently as possible, I dragged myself and my leg bag, that nearly detached itself, out of the water and onto shore. What a great way to start my part in the invasion of Normandy.

The woods around me echoed the sounds of the battle further on down road and I glanced around for any type of vantage point I could use. Finally, I spotted a tree that overlooked both the dirt road and an open field. I darted across the muddy road, nearly slipping into the mud and dirtying myself even more than I already was in my haste. Swing my M1 Carbine over my shoulder, I jumped up and grabbed onto a low hanging branch and slowly but surely pulled myself up off the ground.

The view from the tree gave me quite sight of the surrounding area and everything in it. I could see the German soldiers firing off an 88 and it took all of my restraint to not start firing at them and give away my position. I tightened my grip on the small rifle when out of nowhere two voices rung out in the darkness and into my ears. Making sure that I was out of the eyesight of the passing bystanders I was glad finally make out what they were saying...in English. At that moment I wasn't sure if I wanted to hug them or throttle them for being the biggest morons on the face of the planet for speaking so loud that any German is the vicinity could hear them and come out of nowhere with their MP40s blazing.

"Flash!" I harshly whispered out into the night. Both men spun around comically and they both frantically whispered out 'Thunder' in return while looking around to find me. I expertly swung off the branch that I had taken refuge in and onto the ground behind the two unknown men. "Do you two have a death wish?! I could hear you two for miles." I grilled into them both while swinging my M1 into my waiting hands. Both men flinched away in fear that I would possibly shoot them for being so foolish; not that the thought hadn't crossed my mind.

"No Sergeant, sorry we didn't realize we were so loud." One of the unknown paratroopers explained.

"In the future I suggest you keep your trap shut, do I make myself clear?" Both men nodded quickly and often. "What are your outfits, Privates?"

"Able sir." Both troopers whispered.

That couldn't be right...

"Where in the goddamn hell are we?" I replied reaching into my left breast pocket and pulling out the map Normandy surrounding our objective.

"If I may, sir, I saw a sign down the road a ways that said Saint Sauveur-le-Viconte." Under the natural lighting from the moon we all studied the map. Well, I tried to study the map but like every time words or numbers were involved, everything got jumbled and difficult to read. It was something I had been doing my best to hide from the other men, but in a situation like this, it wasn't so easy. "Sir?" One of the privates asked, shifting around uneasily at how long it was taking. Thankfully those endless hours of studying the sand tables were coming in handy as I could spot our objective on any map after a little bit of time.

"We obviously need to stay off the roads to avoid Kraut patrols, fortunately cutting through the woods will cut time off the trip…unfortunately we'll be much louder; now watch your step privates." Our band of three set out on our much-needed voyage toward the objective, a tense silence settled over us as we walked, with me leading our small group through the maze of trees and rivers that covered the French countryside. When out of nowhere a very silent "Flash" could be heard in the distance. I quickly dropped to a knee and lifted a fist into the air; signaling my two man squad to hold their position. I slowly moved my right hand up and down in a patting motion; causing the two Able privates to crouch on one knee.

I took a quick glance behind me before silently venturing closer to the source of the voice alone. As the distance between the unknown allied soldiers and me lessened I slowed my pace even more. When I got to a modernly safe distance I got down on my belly and continued forward with hopes of not being seen. From my position in a bush I saw a group of five men in circle trying to get their bearings sorted out. I quickly pulled out my cricket clicker and pressed down on it twice in rapid succession. Right away I saw five heads swerve in my direction before a 'click' was returned. Grasping my M1 in one hand I stood up from my bushy cover and jogged out of trees and into the small school circle. "You have no idea how it is to see you guys, you never go wrong with more fellow troopers." I whispered as I took a spot next to the lieutenant of the group...Winters I think his name was.

"Even if two of them are 82nd boys..." a soldier spoke up.

"Okay seriously, where in the goddamn hell are we? I got two Able boys waiting out in the trees." The soldier who mentioned the 82nd boys head perked up at the mention of more Able men. Lieutenant Winters turned to me.

"Sergeant, round up your men, we need to figure out where our next objective is." Getting up from my knees I jogged off in the direction I just came from. It didn't take long to find the two men from Able Company.

"Hey, Able boys, let's move it up; some Easy boys are up by the river's edge; we're planning our next move." Both men jumped to their feet and took off with me in the direction of the river's edge. Just as we got back to the group Winters was giving out the order.

"We're about 1 kilometers away from our objective and four hours from when we need to have it secured...so we got a lot of walking ahead of us. You men stick with us until we find your unit." Everyone stood up and my two man squad moved to join the other guy from Able. As Lieutenant Winters passed me, I pulled out the M1911 that my father gave me from the holster at my side and handed it to him, seeing as he had no weapon. He looked at me in surprise, but eventually took the weapon. I guess it was a strange thing to loan out your personal firearm, and after all, no one else was stepping forward to share their firearm with the Easy Company sergeant, but I gave him a shrug and fell to the back of the group. Being the only one without a fellow company member to converse with, it was only fair that I kept my eyes peeled.

Even though it was a fact that the eight of us were currently surrounded in Nazi occupied France, I found myself relaxing a little. After all we were paratroopers, we were supposed to be surrounded. In a way I enjoyed being able to take the time walking in the woods and looking around at all the nature around me. "Enjoying the view Sarge?" One of the 82nd boys asked me, evidently noticing this.

"Sue me, I'm from New York. The most nature I see there is Central Park." I joked. He let out a quiet laugh before continuing his conversation with his 82nd buddy. All of a sudden, the Easy Company lieutenant signaled us to stop and take a knee. That's when I heard some guy saying that it was probably a train they were hearing...a train, really?

"Flash!" Winters whispered loudly.

"Thunder!" was whispered back frantically by a couple of voices. We then exited the bushes and trees and met up with the other small group of paratroopers.

"Lieutenant, is that you?"

"Malarkey." Winters nodded at him and walked passed him. Malarkey stood there nodding and smiling at us while we passed him. When his smiled reached me I immediately felt my face heat up, thankfully due to the night sky and the black paint on my face made my red cheeks not noticeable. Damn, why did I have to find Brown-Eyes as attractive as I did? At least this time I could keep my wandering eyes in check.

"Guarnere and you Griffin up front."

"What the hell is Griffin doing here?" Guarnere didn't say anything else as he caught sight of me making my way to the front, only gave me a look that showed how much he didn't want me there with him. Did he expect me to shoot him in the back or something? I rolled my eyes at him and started down the path, he followed in turn and soon so did everyone else. Thankfully we were to proceed in silence, that meant I didn't have to suffer through Guarnere making it known to every single man there that I was a worthless fuck from Dog Company, but man oh man was he telling it with his eyes. He would constantly shift his eyes my way and try to make me break or something; in retaliation I just scratched my cheek that was facing him with my middle finger. Winters cleared his throat signaling us to cease our childish antics and stay sharp. Guarnere grumbled under his breath and it never ceased to amaze me how much the men of Easy Company didn't respect their ranking officers; first Captain Sobel and now Lieutenant Winters.

Guarnere threw his hand in the air and we all stopped in our tracks. Winters quickly sped pass both of us and took a quick look down the dirt road before gesturing the lot of us into one of the ditches surrounding the muddy footpath, one by one we all dashed into the bush. Fate seemed to like playing with my life because one fellow man of the Irish decent was pressed up against me, yet again my cheeks heated up from the close proximity.

"Wait for my command." Those four words snapped me out of my daze, I tightened my hold on my carbine trying to calm my nerves; seeing as this would likely the moment that I would kill a human being for the first time. Muffled German jargon suddenly arose from a turnoff with a cobblestone archway located in front us, a group of six or seven soldiers with a horse drawn carriage turned under the archway and walked towards us not knowing that lied ahead of them. Lieutenant Winters signaling hand started to move when out of nowhere, Guarnere leapt from his hiding stop and let out a hail of bullets from his Thompson.

It wasn't long before most of us started firing our own weapons on the small group of Germans, the sound of Thompson, Carbine and Garand firing pins slamming back and gunfire filled the air. The one sided firefight didn't last long as Lieutenant Winters put an end to it.

"That's enough Guarnere!" A single shot rang out as Toye shot the seriously injured horse to put it out of its misery. "Is everyone okay?" Winters asked his eyes never leaving Guarnere's. The words of confirmation rang as we all set off to something that didn't interfere with the silent debate between the Non Com and CO. Me and Lipton started looking over the dead bodies for ammunition. "The next time I say wait for my command, you wait for my command, Sergeant." A grumbled 'yes sir' was returned. Lipton and I shared a look before he grabbed two of German Kar98k rifles and took off to hand one to his lieutenant, I stood up and swung my weapon over my should before joining the small group once again.

"Screams at me for killing Krauts." Guarnere whispered sourly to the closet guy to which was Joe Toye.

"He just wanted you to wait for his command." Joe explained after Winters gave the order to move out.

"You're seriously wondering why he's going to be strict with you, Guarnere? Stunts like that get people killed." I snapped passing him.

"Mind your fucking business cow boy!" he snapped back. We were face to face at this point and basically nose-to-nose when Lieutenant Winters separated us.

"Sergeants! I don't need you two at each other throats during the war. Both of you separate; Sergeant Guarnere I want you up front where I can keep an eye on you, and you Sergeant Griffin will stay in the back where you can't cause any more trouble. Do I make myself clear?"

Guarnere huffed and walked up ahead without answering as I nodded sharply in response. As I moved to walk away Lieutenant Winters was calling me back and handing me back my prized M1911 that I had given him before.

"It was a noble gesture Sergeant." he said, his voice softer than it had been a moment ago. I accepted the handgun with a nod before turning away once again to go to my position at the back of the group. Soon the group head off into the night in silence once again; the knowledge of a long night ahead of us keeping the mood somber.

-

It was now morning and all I wanted to do was either fall asleep or drink a nice big cup of coffee; sadly none of those were at my disposal as I traversed through long grass with the rest of my mismatched squad. Hall, Malarkey and I held the rear position of the tactical column. Guarnere was ahead of a little ways still complaining about how his CO was shouting at him about for killing Krauts and I couldn't help but roll my eyes. As much as he was a great paratrooper, you would never hear the end of it when something climbed up his ass and died. My attention was turned away from the bitching and moaning by a gentle but noticeable bump to my shoulder, outstretched in my direction was an army issued canteen, an arm that belonged to Malarkey. I took the offered beverage and gave me a small smile in return before pouring the sweet H²O into my mouth. I closed my eyes for a moment and savoured the liquid and then I swung the strap of my carbine over my shoulder so I could pour a small amount of the water into my hand and threw it onto my face. The late night events had taken its toll on me and I couldn't shake the feeling that I shot someone dead, it was a sensation that I couldn't shake and I was pretty sure it would stick with me forever. The guys didn't seem to feel the same thing as I did because they were conversing between themselves joyfully. Was this one of the reasons why women couldn't fight? Because we were emotional to sorrow and remorse for what we've done?

We came to a small farm house where there was some dead cows that littered the ground with a couple of dead Germans to accompany them, in one of the trees there was a parachute tangled in the branches where there hanged one of our own. At this point everyone scattered to do one thing or another, Lieutenant Winters dropped the Kar98k to the ground at his feet and proceeded to untie the M1 Garand from its dead owners grasp. Malarkey on the other hand was on his hands and knees and flipping the deceased Germans over. 

"I promised my kid brother I'd fetch him a luger; so I get first dibs." While everyone was preoccupied by looting the dead I found myself staring at the unlucky soul that was lost hanging from his grave. Off the in the distance a thundering boom could be heard signaling that the beach landings had started.

"The landings have started, we better keep moving." We left the farm house and ventured off on a path that led into the woods being more cautious than ever since the Germans were most likely also out and about and more vigilant than ever.

It wasn't long until the muddy road we were traveling on led us to on to a straight farm road that had at the end of it an ol' barn; barn that seemed to occupied by the United States Airborne. The thick mud made the journey to be reunited with all our friends longer than it seemed; longer for me to find out if Jackson, Gomez or Blackburn survived the jump to tell me about it. We took a winding turn and when we passed some overgrown bushes I was greeted by a familiar face. "Grif, is that you?" Gomez called out, with a sigh of relief I broke out of formation and trudged up a small mud-slicked hill and smacked him on the back in greeting.

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" I said, slinging my semi automatic rifle over my shoulder. He laughed and nodded his head in agreement.

"I must be after having to spend with those bastards." He gestured with his head towards the Easy Company men.

" You have no idea; I can only take so much of Guarnere." Gomez let out a deep laugh as the men from Easy walked by, giving us stony looks, especially Guarnere whose gaze could rival Medusa's. I finally noticed a bunch of Kraut POWs digging a hole that could hold a whole platoon of men, maybe more, how I didn't see it earlier was beyond me. Malarkey trudged by throwing out a completely butchered Irish accent asking the Krauts how their day was. If that didn't surprise me enough, one of the Krauts responded in a perfect American accent; no tinge of a German accent hiding away in the backdrop of his voice.

But all that was pushed to the back of my mind when I turned my attention back to Gomez so I could find out what happened to the rest of my company. "Gomez, what about the others? If I was dropped so far off course than the others might have been scattered also." Gomez took a long drag from his cigarette before answering; clearly he was mustering up the strength to deliver a bombshell.

"Some here and there from what I hear. Blackburn and Spliner are over by HQ over there but I haven't heard from Andrew yet."

"Jackson? No one has heard from him? At all?" In response, all I got was sad eyes and a small nod from the other man. A small sigh escaped my lips and thoughts of what could have happened to him filled my mind. I guess I didn't think that I'd lose one of my friends so soon, but then again, he could still be on his way here as we speak.

I quickly fished out a smoke out of one of my pockets and lit it, the tobacco filled my lungs and calmed my rattled nerves. My eyes closed and everything around me disappeared, all the worries of the war, Jackson and my parents disappeared. "Hey Malark, stop fraternizing with the enemy!" That did it. My moment of clarity was gone. The Irishman bid a quick farewell to the German prisoner of war, and even spared me a small wave, before heading his way down the mud soaked road. Speirs calmly walked by the trotting Irishman, both Gomez and I gave a quick salute that was returned just as quick.

"How was the jump sir?" Gomez asked fearlessly.

I shot him a 'what the hell' look, it didn't seem like something that Speirs, a lieutenant, would share with a lowly corporal and sergeant. He put an unlit cigarette in his mouth and fiddled with his lighter before he answered us.

"No better than both of yours, I imagine." He brushed past both of us and straight towards our German prisoners and started handing them some of his smokes. If Speirs could be friendly than so I could be too; I fished out my trusty lighter from my breast pocket and tossed it to the nearest Kraut. The Kraut nodded his thanks and started lighting up his buddies smokes. Out of nowhere, the thundering sound of a Thompson going off filled the air and the POWs started dropping like flies into the hole that they had just had been digging. I quickly shut my eyes in surprise and tried to block out the sound of rounds being fired and the dying screams of the German prisoners. Just as quickly as it had started, the firing stopped and I slowly opened my eyes... There were dead German soldiers all around me and just down the road I caught the eyes of the startled little Irishman's who was staring back in mortification.


	6. Days of Days Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't understand why old notes I've written keep showing up....aka at the end of chapter. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter and I'd love to hear more from you guys, so don't forget to comment. 
> 
> Also I'd like to mention that the story is in 1st person because thats how I started writing it - I understand some people don't like it but I'm going to finish it in 1st person. My upcoming BoB fic will be in 3rd person, so you can look forward to that.

The echoing of the sudden gun fire combined with the brown eyes staring back at my oddly mismatched ones sent shivers down my spine. The owner of the brown pair of eyes suddenly broke contact and spun around to make a quick get away, leaving me with the harsh reality of what transpired to make itself known in my mind. I looked down into the hole that was now filled with the dead bodies of the German soldiers that had dug it up; feelings of unknown anxiety filled my body and my legs moved on their own accord forcing me away from the meaningless slaughter and onwards to where many of my friends and fellow paratroopers were located. The road leading to the barn house wasn't a far one but it seemed to be when the only thing on my mind was the sound of the thunder that came from the Thompson haunted my thoughts. Finally though, without realizing it, I had arrived at the assembly area and was completely surrounded by men from several different companies. Everything seemed to slow down as my mind finally registered what had happened not even five minutes ago, I closed my eyes and images of bodies falling occupied my brain. I opened my eyes and those images vanished as happiness soon filled me when the thought of seeing all my friends again, but reality soon set in when the sight of dirty, sleep deprived faces of men from several different companies filled my eyes. I made my way toward the brick barn house doors where I spied the familiar dirty face of my fellow dog company paratrooper; Henry Blackburn. When I entered his eyesight, his eyes lit up. "Hey, long time no see, Grif!" The one armed hug that enveloped me was a welcomed feeling after the bone chilling turn of events that I had the misfortune of somewhat witnessing. "So, Sammy boy, how was your jump?" Spliner questioned me as he took a quick swig of his canteen. I plopped down on top of a bale of hay and scratched the side of my camouflaged face.

-

I pulled off my helmet and ran my petit hand through my day-old mohawk, ruffling what hair there was, when Lieutenant Speirs calmly walked by the countless men that loitered the area around the barn house. From my sitting position I could see that Don Malarkey had stopped midway in drinking from his canteen and regarded the canine company's CO with cautious eyes. Judging from the ginger's guarded posture, it was possible that Speirs had managed to peg himself as the small man's enemy for what he might have done. Was it really the commanding officer that had shot the defenseless German soldiers? I knew that I shouldn't feel any remorse for my country's enemy, but they were just doing their civil duty just as I was. What made them that much different than me? Minus the whole impersonating a man and facing the possibility of death if I was found out thing.

Morale around camp was at a somewhat high, seeing as surviving this far was a momentous occasion...to some at least. There wasn't a lot to do until orders were given out and the only orders that were given out were to Easy. As they were leaving, just about every person from every company knew what they were off to do; take out the guns that were zero'ed in on the beach-heads. "Why are they the ones that get to go out and shoot something?"

"Ya see, Spliner, they are the finest company in the whole 2nd battalion, apparently, and that gives them bids on the missions." Blackburn replied flicking his cigarette.

"That's horse shit and you know it." I argued without moving from where I was lying up against a hay bale. They got destroyed in most of the war games that went on between the outfits because poor ol' Easy had to deal with Sobel's jumpiness. "Speaking of Easy, did anyone see The Black Swan?" I asked lifting my head up to look at my friends.

"I heard that Sobel was transferred from Easy to Chilton Foliat where Sink had set up a jump school for doctors and such." The slightly chubby corporal Harrington filled us in. "Happened before the jump."

"You gotta be shitting me, Sink finally dropped that chickenshit officer?" That kept us pretty occupied for a bit seeing for a bit seeing as we didn't make it a habit of following up on gossip that had to do with Easy company; unless it was something juicy.

Sadly, that topic wore thin after a while and we were pretty much stuck with nothing to do while some of the others were ordered to head out toward the town of Carentan. Having nothing to do seemed to follow me around ever since I've landed in Normandy and I was so over doing nothing. Thankfully it was as if the Lord Almighty was listening because from the distance came Robert 'Popeye' Wynn, hobbling past us he proceeded onwards to CP, a couple of moments later Speirs came jogging out from where Popeye had entered; screaming for us to get into a school circle. As always when a school circle was called, I pushed my way to the center of it so I could see what the hell was going on. "It seems that Easy Company is having a little bit of difficulty taking the guns that are bombing the beach-heads, Colonel Sink has generously offered us to pick up the slack and take out those guns before they can cause anymore damage." I perked up at the challenge of taking down those pesky 105mm howitzers that Easy Co. was told to be 88's. "There are two access points to the trenches that access the battery. Not only do we have possible German entrenchment but they have a MG42 covering them from behind. From the knowledge we've just been given; according to Pop... What was his name again? Popneck? Pop...?"

"Popeye sir." Gomez spoke up. Wait a minute, when did Gomez get here?

"From Popeye's report of what was happening when he left, none of the guns were taken; so we will be going to access the trenches by creating a distraction to keep the Germans looking away from the platoon. Are we clear?" I nodded my head and the rest of what was left of my small platoon nodded their heads also. "Weapons and ammo only, move out." The circle of men surrounding me dispersed and I immediately made a beeline to where my gear was leaning against the hay bale that I was laying on before. Effortlessly, I snapped my ammo belt around my waist, slid the strap of my M1 over my shoulder. I then placed my helmet on my head and, like always because of my feminine head being smaller than the size that the helmet was designed for, it shifted slightly and appeared lopsided. Suddenly, a forceful nudge on the back of my helmet sent it forward, covering my line of sight. I quickly placed it back to its original position before spinning around and smacking the offender in the arm. Thankfully, it was just Gomez trying to get a rise out of me seeing as both of us were a little on edge from before.

The rest of our 9 man platoon stood a little ways ahead ready to take on the enemy head on, just as the late Captain Matthews always preached in our two years of training. Just as both Gomez and I fell in, Speirs was giving us the order to move out in a tactical column. It wasn't long before we were passing the resting place of the German POWs. Everyone was chatting up a storm not realizing what had taken place at this very spot a while ago. This wasn't the case for me and Gomez who had taken up the rear of the column. We fell silent as we passed the new grave, but the others didn't even notice. ''Hey, Gomez.''

''Yeah, Grif?''

''Did you see who did the shooting?'' I asked, expecting an answer. The man sighed and only looked ahead.

''It's better for everyone if you didn't know.'' I frowned slightly; I hadn't been expecting that as answer, to say the least. Gomez usually told me when something was bothering him. ''Don't take it personally, Sam; I just don't think it would do no one any good if something like that had gotten out.'' I opened my mouth to reply when the sound of gunfire was heard. Speirs jumped into action and yelled for us to follow him into the fray.

If you thought you knew what reckless meant, you would be mistaken. What you would call reckless in everyday life was nothing here. Ronald Speirs was beyond reckless. Ronald Speirs was brave as sin, because in that moment, he was running out in the open to gain the Germans' attention so we could set up a flanking assault to take one of the howitzer pits. One by one we jumped to join into the trench and Speirs finally jumped in to join us. As one, we stormed down the trench, popping our heads up every once in a while to shoot down some krauts that were attempting to take back the battery. We were coming to a the final stretch where one of the howitzers was standing when I heard a yell.

''They must think he's a medic or something!'' I spun around to see in the neighbouring pit, surrounded by sandbags where three guys from Easy were staring out into the field. There, on the field, kneeled a lone figure that was scavenging the bodies. I don't know was came over me because before I knew what was happening, I was climbing up and over the trench wall and running full speed to the lone soldier. ''He's gonna need a goddamn medic!''

"You mean they'll need a medic?''

''What?''

I side stepped one of the bodies that littered the luscious green grass before hauling the guy; who turned out to be the Malarkey fellow, what a surprise, to his feet and back towards his buddies. At this point the Germans must have figured out that one Donald Malarkey was not in fact a medic because they were shooting at us with vengeance. Before we both knew it, we were slipping and sliding all over the place, Malarkey fell to the ground and I thanked God for making me so agile before spinning around and grabbing his arm so I could pull him to his feet. Just as I grabbed his elbow, a sharp pain tore through the side of my face and I released him before palming my face and letting out a grunt of pain.

I stood there holding myself as my whole body went numb, except for my face that burned like the deepest pits of hell, I was vaguely aware of my surrounding even as an arm reached out and pulled me towards the safety of the sandbag cover. Before I knew it, I made contact with the cold hard ground and the impact caused my hand to dislodge my hand away from my face. "Did you get your luger, you stupid mick?" Guarnere sarcastically shouted over the sound of his firing Thompson.

"A luger?! You're telling me all of that was over a fucking parabellum pistol? You have got to be shitting me!" I screamed in complete rage. Channeling that rage, I picked up my carbine that was laying at my feet and pulled the bolt back and started shooting down across the field; envisioning that I was shooting at a certain ginger.

Magazines and clips of ammo were spent and replenished many times before everything was said and done and all of the 105mm guns were finally destroyed. My face throbbed and stung and all I wanted to do at that point was to find that luger that Malarkey wanted oh so badly and shove it up his ass, but for now, we had to get the hell out of there before the Germans countered their attack. When we reached the rendezvous point, I found a place to sit and let my gun fall beside me, my right hand was slick with blood that once belonged to my face. The other guys were congratulating each other on a job well done, but I had no plans on letting them forget their idiotsy; especially one Donald Malarkey. "I swear to god Malarkey," I said loudly enough to make all of the Easy Company men look my way. "If you pull something like that again for a fucking pistol; I will personally find you that luger and shove it up your ass." All the guys stared at me in shock.

"Now listen here Griff-'' Guarnere started but was quickly interrupted by Malarkey.

"He's right Bill, it was stupid and reckless." Don agreed before stepping towards me and holding out his hand. I took the outstretched hand in mine and I was hauled to my feet.

"I can understand the reason behind wanting that luger, but try to wait for a safer time to scavenge, Malark, or you'll end up worse than me." I said touching my split cheek. Guilt quickly spread throughout his eyes and his squad mates whispered behind him. He opened his mouth when an angry voice reached me before Malarkey's did.

"Sergeant Griffin!" My eyes swept over to where a furious Speirs stood by a indignant Lieutenant Winters. I sighed and tipped my helmet at the boys from Easy before grabbing my rifle and heading towards the two officers. I hadn't even arrived in front of them before Speirs lay into me. "What the hell were you thinking, Sergeant?" Speirs growled.

"I wasn't thinking sir." I replied and there I went again, still not thinking.

"Clearly because a thinking man wouldn't forget what his objective was and rush out into the line of fire."

"Permission to speak, sir?" Both Lieutenants glanced at each other before Speirs reluctantly nodded. "Sir, I can't apologize for having a fellow troopers back, it was the right thing to do in my mind but I'll accept any punishment you deem fit...sir." Speirs' nostrils flared for a brief moment before he dismissed me ordering that I get myself back to an aid station to take a look at my face. Speaking of my face; it was hurting like a mother.

-

The next thing I knew there was a hand poking away at my face causing me to cringe. "You know, Doc, I think I get the fact that I have a massive cut on my face and that it hurts quite a bIIIIIT" I snarled at the end emphasizing the great deal of that I was going through.

"Yeah, well that's what happens when you run into oncoming fire like a moron."

"Yeah like I haven't heard about it enough, why can't anyone talk about how I saved a OWW!" Doc Evans pinched together the deep cut together and began to apply an iodine swab to the cut to clean and sterilize the wound. "Really Doc, no warning? It's like you hate me or something." And of course there was no answer given, how typical of Doc Evans. I suddenly jumped back off the table that I was occupying in the Aid Station as good ol' Doc Evans was threading a needle with a stitching thread. "Evans you better not think I'm going to allow you to come at my face with that needle without drugging me up first with some sort of anesthesia."

"Griffin, do you think that you get the luxury of being given morphine for your paper cut when it's in high demand for the soldiers that actually have need for it because of wounds much greater than yours?"

"A man can dream right?" I said and Evans was not impressed.

"Now stand still, Griffin so I don't sew your mouth closed instead." My cheek was once again held hostage, but this time it wouldn't make it out. I closed my eyes tightly hoping that it wouldn't be as painful as I thought it would be.

"FUCK!"

No such luck.

-

When I finally got to leave the Aid Station with a nice and itchy gauze bandage covering my newly stitched up cheek, I was ready to shoot something just to get my mind off the seething pain. After our assault on the guns at Brecourt, a manor nearby had been taken over and converted for the use of an Aid Station for the wounded that piled up in different assaults surrounding the one I had found myself in. By the time I had gotten looked at, stitched up and out of the Aid Station, most of the soldiers, if not all of them had returned to the CP for further orders, so I was in for a lonely and painful trek back...or so I thought. Sitting on the last step of the manor's balcony was no other than the reason I was here seeking medical help in the first place. "Can I ask why you're here and not back at CP with everyone else or was God merciful enough to make you wounded for your stupidity?" It was almost comical to see how fast he spun around to look at me, the velocity of his spin almost sent him toppling down off his step and onto the ground.

"I was just waiting up for you, so no I'm fine." Malarkey said.

A smirk graced my somewhat clean face. "Pity." I walked down the wooden stairs and placed my helmet on my head where it fell into its signature crooked placement. There was no stopping as I swiftly walked by the fellow soldier of Irish decent. The sound of shuffling soon followed, telling me that the ginger paratrooper was hurrying to follow after me. Soon he was beside me and staring, the hairs that I had left on the back of my neck stood up in fright at the possibility that I had been found out. "Can I help you?" I inquired ready to plead my case of why I faked my identity and broke the law.

"Why did you do it?" He asked while stopping to stare in my eyes. Oh God, this is it! I'm done for! I stopped and turned my head toward him and my body tensed up, ready to make a quick getaway if the need arose.

"Do what?" Yeah, great idea Sam play dumb, he'll buy it.

"Put yourself at risk to save my ass." My eyes widened in relief that I was safe for another day.

"We lost enough men from the jump alone, I didn't think we could spare so many getting killed so soon." He simply nodded in response, clearly he was still feeling guilty for what his actions caused. "Don't worry about me Malarkey, I'd be more worried about your buddies in Easy will say when they find out how a bastard from Dog company saved your life." His guilt ridden face was quickly replaced by a small smile.

By the time we returned to the CP again the official word of who was MIA or KIA had made its way from company to company if the long faces that each and every man sported was a clue. Malarkey bid his farewell and made his getaway, clearly anxious to get back to his own platoon. It took me quite awhile to find my own because of the other companies that had finally arrived to the rendezvous point after many hours had passed since the jump, making traffic around CP much harder to maneuver around. When I reached my platoon, Easy was moving out to hook up with some armored unit at village that was located nearby. After the day I had had; I was hoping for some cheerful time with my friends, but of course it just seemed like my day was never going to get better because my buddies regarded me with sorrow filled eyes." Henry, did someone die or something?" Blackburn sighed and quickly broke the news.

"Some platoon lost one of their mortar men today." I raised my eyebrow at his meaningless statement.

"So? How does that affect us?" All eyes were now on me at this point, when Speirs voice cut in from behind me.

"You're part of that mortar team now."

"Excuse me?"

"You've been transferred."


	7. Carentan Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A super short chapter but I hope you like it all the same!

Silence fell over the group as I tried to register the fact that I would no longer be part of my beloved Dog Company. "This has to have to be a joke." I argued to my superior hoping that he would drop the charade, crack a smile and me that he was only yanking my chain but sadly none of that happened and all I got was Speirs eyes narrowing at me.

"No joke, Sergeant; this comes from the top, so you better catch up with Easy." If being transferred to Easy wasn't bad enough; I had to face the nightmare of chasing down said company that had already left to a recently secured town. I gave 'manly' hugs to a few of my friends before leaving to find an intelligence officer who could tell me where my new company could be found. Of course the task of finding an intelligence officer wasn't as easy as it sounded because they were constantly in meetings with the majors and generals, so anyone not important had to wait their turn. And sadly, not important meant me.

I wasn't the only one wanting an intelligence officer and that fortunately gave me and the other fellows someone to shoot the shit with. Smokes were quickly handed out and lit and I was faced with the fact that at the rate me and the other paratroopers were going at it with these smokes, we would all have cancer sometime in our lifetime for sure. There was also the horrible fact that I was almost out of Viceroy's...which meant I'd have to smoke Lucky Strikes from now on. Apparently the shooting of the shit today consisted of whether or not Speirs had actually shot the Kraut POWs. As the man who was from Dog Company, they all kept asking me what I thought and so 'I don't knows' and 'drop it' were constantly leaving my lips. No matter how many times I told them to drop it, however, I had to admit to myself that I was curious to find out the truth too.

Finally, after waiting for what felt like forever, the intelligence officers had finalized their meeting with the bigwigs. At this point in time I was pretty much fed up with sitting around on my ass and only wanted to get a move on...even if it meant being with Easy. Suddenly, I had tunnel vision and the only thing that mattered was getting to the S3, before any other man was able to make their move. Thankfully, all the guys had their backs to him so they hadn't noticed him yet, all except Robertson from F company that is. We both stood up at the same time but I grabbed his satchel's strap and pulled it back; sending him stumbling back out of surprise and giving me my chance to reach the intelligence officer first.

'"Lieutenant." I threw him a quick salute which he returned just as quickly.

"What I can do for you, Sergeant?"

"My orders are to rendezvous with E company but I don't have the faintest clue where they are or where they're going."

"From the intelligence meeting, the talk about Easy was that they were ordered to Houesville until further orders." From what I could recall from the sand tables that I spent hours studying, the small village of Houesville was a couple miles away Brecourt and if I was lucky I could get there in a few hours at best while being cautious of possible German patrols. "I know that look when I see it, Sergeant, I'll get you a ride and you can take your transfer orders, so I can have time to get some reports done. Sound good?"

"Fantastic, Lieutenant."

He handed me a paper before signaling for a nearby jeep to make its way over to us. I quickly stuffed my transfer orders into my right breast pocket, and the army jeep slid on top of the muddy terrain as it came to a stop in front of us. The Lieutenant had a quick talk to the driver to let him know where he would be driving me to, I took a quick glance back at my now ex-company that were now joking around trying to get over their losses...me being the freshest one, I could see the weariness from all the fighting overtaking their young features. Placing my dirt caked carbine on the floor mat of the passenger seat, I jumped in before the driver started off in the direction of the unknown. When the jeep slowly rolled by my old platoon, I reached into one of my many pockets and plucked out the last of my Viceroy's and tossed it out at them.

"Consider that a peace offering from Easy!" I joked.

Spliner caught my treasured smokes and pocketed them. "Doesn't count until you hand over those papers but thanks for the smokes anyway!" An enormous amount of laughter rang out from the group and sadness filled me to the core, I was going miss those guys.

Growing up in Hell's Kitchen there wasn't a bunch of nature where I lived, but by joining the Airborne I was able to see much of mother nature creation and as of this moment Normandy was taking the cake in beauty. As much as I wanted the ride to last as long as possible, I knew the couple of miles between Brecourt and Houesville was only a few minutes drive. I reached up and took my M1 helmet off my head and placed it in my lap. I then closed my eyes and focused on nothing more than the wind whipping across my face and hair. "You're an easy target for even a rookie sniper on a night like this, you know." The gruff voice said from my left said causing me to open my left eye to look in his direction.

"If it gets you to converse, I welcome them to try and shoot me." His hoarse laugh shocked me to the core but I grinned and chuckled along with him. We passed over a hill and the sight of the small village greeted us, transport trucks lined the street with a few men lining the streets. The moonlight guided us closer to the town and as we got closer the more nauseous I got. I knew that I wasn't going to be welcomed with open arms; there was too much bad blood between D and E Company for that to happen. The jeep pulled onto the truck littered street and stopped, indicating that it was now time for me to face the firing squad that was known as Easy Company. My hand automatically went to grasp my dirty rifle hoping that somehow it would give me the strength to get out of the jeep and find whoever was in, so I can head over the paper in my pocket that until this moment felt as light as a feather but now was weighting me down to the seat. Finally shaking off the negative thoughts, I started stepping out of the vehicle when I heard Liebgott's voice through the distance. Looking over I saw him clawing a trucks canvas flap trying to free himself from within it.

"Jesus, let me out of here!" He threw the flap up and over the top of the canvas hanging and jump out, leaving light from inside the back of the truck to be seen from anyone who was looking from afar to see. Typical that someone from Easy would forget about something as important as light discipline. A voice came from within the truck.

"Hey light discipline! Guarnere, close that flap." The mentioned soldier popped his head out, intending to follow the order given but stopped when his eyes landed on me.

"What the fuck is Griffin doing here?"

Collective 'whats?' followed and more heads popped out seconds after. I felt a small smirk grace my face; as much as I was nervous; Guarnere always managed to get my snarky side showing.

"As much as I'd love to be here to grace your ugly mugs with my ravishing good looks, I'm sadly here to be part of your mortar crew." Looks of indifference, disgust, and surprise flashed on their faces. "And as much as I'd love to hear your endearments about my transfer, I have to find Winters or somebody." I felt my new and shell shocked company to find the highly spoken of officer. I walked a little ways down the road hoping that I'd have the luck to spot my new officer, but sadly no such luck. "Hey, have you seen Lieutenant Winters?" I was quickly pointed in a direction and I took off yet again just wishing that this fishing expedition would end.

At least the direction given to me was right because there was Winters struggling with something in his hands. "Sir?" His struggling stopped and he looked at me before resuming his struggling once again.

"What can I do for you, Sergeant?"

"Orders were handed down and with the loss of one of your mortar guys I've been transferred to your company, sir". I rigidly stood there as Winters eyes scanned my face before holding out his hand. My hand dove into my jacket pockets, searching frantically; trying to remember where I put my damned papers. Goddamn this is embarrassing.

"Slow down, Sergeant, you're not being court marshaled."

"Sorry, sir, just a little rattled about the whole transfer ordeal." Finally I reached into the right pocket and grasped the folded piece of paper with my fore finger and thumb and pulled it out to place it in Winters' outstretched hand. He unfolded the paper and commenced to reading over the written orders. After a moment or two he stuffed the paper into his pant leg pocket and nodded to me. "Welcome to Easy Company, Sergeant. Let's get you introduced to the men." The walk back to wherever he was taking me was a silent one until he randomly stopped and turned to me. "I've been meaning to ask how your face is going." I reached up and brushed my thumb against my bandaged cheek, the minute pressure from my thumb caused my torn cheek to flare with pain; causing me to cringe.

"I've been better, sir" I joked trying to mask to pain that most likely showed on my face.

"As much as it was an honourable thing to do, it was still reckless and stupid."

"And I still stand by what I said, sir, if I can do something to save someone I'll do it. No matter the cost." All traces of my humour was gone at this point. A frown graced the lieutenants face and his forehead wrinkled; deep in thought.

"Lets hope that never happens, agreed?" My affirmative nod gave him his answer, but at the back of our minds it was known that neither of us couldn't agree that it wouldn't happen again. It took me a second to realize it but he was leading us back to the truck where I had just been; talking shit with some of the people that hate my guts. The voices of my new company reached my ears and I could only hope that a grenade that had been once reserved for Sobel didn't magically land at my feet in the middle of combat. Sadly, we arrived too soon and the canvas flap was suddenly up and over both mine and Winters' heads and multiple pair of eyes were staring back at us. At that moment, I swear that all I wanted to do was to crawl under a rock and stay there for the rest of this goddamn war. Out of the corner of my mind I could barely make out what Winters was saying as all I could register all the eyes on me. It wasn't like before when I egged them on, now I was in the presence of a superior officer...my superior officer. Without my defense of being snarky, their judging eyes were now talking its toll on me.

A bottle of alcohol was thrusted towards both Winters and I. I reached out and grabbed the European wine and stopped to look at the men seated above me, I gave them the smallest smirk before reaching under my fatigue jacket a pulling out the bottom of my white shirt out my pants and wiped the rim of the bottle with it before bringing it to my lips.

-

The morning found me on some gravel road that served as a main road into the small town of Carentan, surrounded by the men of Easy Company. So far the transition was not a smooth one seeing as no one would take the time to stop and chat, the rivalry between the two companies was more bitter than I had believed. Winters had crawled up a small incline on the gravel road to scope out the town while the rest of us rested on one knee; awaiting further orders. Most of the guys were silently awaiting the order to advance, others on the other hand were staring at me with complete obvious hate; still not liking the fact that I was here to stay with Easy Company even though it wasn't my choice. My fingers constantly twitched with a nervous tick; yearning for what we were here to do would get over and done with. Usually nerves weren't an issue with me but seeing as I was currently surrounded by people who wanted nothing more than me to get the fuck out of dodge; my nerves were going strong.

The rest of last night was especially horrible, with no one to talk to after Winters departed. So this day started off with me down in the dumps, all of this glaring and silent treatment bullshit was starting to get old real fast. There was movement out the corner of my eye and I turned to see Welsh take off in the direction of the town of Carentan with 1st platoon hot on his heels. They only made it half, maybe three quarters, of the way there when the Germans open fired on them from their cover. This sent everyone but two people leaping to the side for cover in the ditches or hit. Winters then leapt into action screaming for everyone to keep moving into the small town. Winters' shouting seemed to have no effect on us as we just stayed crouched in the ditch; hoping not to get caught up in the wave of bullets.

When he pulled off his helmet and started waving it around trying to push us forward, that was when everyone seemed to have some sense knocked into us because one by one the men of Easy Company filed into the town. The chaos in the French town was unbearable, the atmosphere was filled with screams of pain and gunshots that deafened us to everything else. I looked around the corner of the building, hoping to find where German shooter was picking us off one by one. "Powers!" I shouted out the marksman across the street. The handsome young man's eyes met mine. "Top floor, center window!" He spun around and aimed down the sights of his Garand and expertly shot the Kraut. With the street corner not as hazardous; I jumped over a small pile of rubble and quickly crossed the street and tapped him on the shoulder in passing. My boots thundered over the cobblestone street as I traversed down the back alley by myself, hoping that last thing I would see was not some Frenchman's garbage.

I reached the end of the alley and just as I turned the corner - a body slammed into mine. Both of us fell into a pile of trash; our guns falling away from our grasps. The weight on top of me wasn't a pleasant feeling at all, because of the unknown objects that were stabbing me in the back. The distinct sound of the German linguistics came over us and soon the German soldier came into view. The soldier on top of me struggled to reach for his gun as I quickly reached between our bodies and grabbed the pistol on my person. I struggled to pull it free from the confines from between our bodies just as the German spotted us and began to point his gun our direction. I finally managed to get my pistol out from between us and I somewhat blindly shot a couple of shots at the German hoping that I hit him at least once. The sound of a body hitting the ground was the best sound you could hear during when caught face to face with a Kraut. My arm dropped to the ground as the adrenaline pumped through my veins making my heart slam in my chest. The head that belonged to the person on top of me turned to me and a pair brown beauties were now staring into my eyes. The uncomfortable feeling returned, but it wasn't due to the garbage that was poking me in the back.


	8. Carentan Part Two

Those four words shot through me like a shotgun, explosions riddled the streets as many of the men from Easy Company scrambled for cover from the German barrage. Malarkey took off after one of his buddies who ran by, I briefly thought about following after them before becoming to the decision that maybe it would be better if I just hunkered down in the building that Malarkey and I just cleared. Just as I was about to step back into the house, I caught sight of a soldier kneeling over the dead bodies and saying a prayer before moving onto another lifeless corpse. I vaguely heard someone yelling out how much the Irish people were crazy fools; I couldn't help but agree as I sprinted up the carpeted stairs.

When I reached the top of the stairs, the windows in front of me blew up and I immediately regretted my decision of hiding out in the building. I scrambled out of the view of the window to safety and sat down up against the wall, my back slid down the wall and I couldn't help but start to have some negative thoughts. What if none of us made it out of this French town? What if the armor couldn't link up? More screams filled the air and I realized that hiding out like a coward wasn't going to help anyone. I pushed myself away from the wall and quickly crossed the gaping hole that used to be used to be a window before tearing down the stairs. Nearly tripping over the debris that laid in the front of the door caused me to somewhat skip ridiculously into the street, causing some eyes to look up at me. The oh so familiar feeling of a blush rose upon my face in embarrassment.

The sound of artillery tearing through the air reminded me that this wasn't the time for me to be dwelling on such a foolish thing, there was more important things to be done…like finding a way to stop the bombardment. I managed to traverse the rest of the street without being blown to smithereens. Hugging the buildings, I moved down the street hoping that safety could be found by being closer to the structures. Eventually the continuous stretch of stone from the buildings came to an end as I reached the corner of the road. I peaked over to make sure that there weren't any German surprises waiting for me. The only thing that greeted me was the sight of a poor soul, seated up against a wall staring blankly ahead of him. I cautiously turned the corner and kneeled in front of the poor boy.

"Blithe, you can't be sitting here at a time like this." I harshly stated, ready to rip the young private a new one for sitting around. Eyes' blinking was the only response I got. That's when I noticed that he was quite pale…but then again, that was maybe just his natural complexion. "Blithe, are you ok?" A first there wasn't a response but I waited as patiently as I could in a warzone. "Blithe!" I suddenly shouted, trying to knock him out of his trance. He jumped in fright but it seemed to have the desired effect because he finally answered.

"I-I can't see." He stuttered. I reached out and waved my in front of his face, no response was given. I looked around to make sure that no one was sneaking up on us.

"Let's get out of the open." I pulled Blithe up, grabbed his hand and put it on my ammo belt so he could follow me without running into anything. We moved as quickly as one could while dragging a blind man behind them. As we entered a building that was unclear if it had already been cleared or if it was littered with enemy troops, I suddenly stopped causing Blithe to run into me. I spun around and grasped his stiff arms and dragged him to one of the doors before stopping and telling him to wait, checking to see if it was safe enough for the incapacitated soldier to hide until I came back from clearing the home.

I let my carbine hang at my side and pulled out my handgun before ranking the door open, and coming face to face with a bunch of coats. A sigh escaped my lips and I turned around to place Blithe into the closet. "I'll be right back buddy, try and stay quiet okay?" He nodded slightly and slid to the floor silently as I closed the door. I placed my pistol back into its holster, and pulled off my helmet off and scratched the stubble on the side of my head. The sweat caked on my scalp was causing my head to itch severely. The bombardment outside had yet to stop and I could only wonder how many lives it would take. Speaking of lives; I had yet to wonder how my old squad was fairing. Would they be as dead as Jackson or would they be as alive as I was currently. I replaced my helmet back on my head and lightly swung my carbine off my shoulder in preparation of the task of clearing this establishment solo. My steps were slow and light as I crossed the room to check if the kitchen was free of any opposing German military forces. I peeked around one corner and then the other; confirming that area of operations was safe…so far. My silent strides into the main hall were cautious and rigid, always alert for what could pop out at me at any random time. The howls of pain that slinked through the blown out windows and open door sent a sickening chill down my spine, it was starting to make the little amount of level headedness I had left disintegrate slowly. Making me want to call it quits and run off, leaving the poor defenseless Blithe to fend for himself.

I shook the overwhelming thoughts from my mind and took a step onto the wooden stairs. My first few steps were successful but that quickly changed, as my next step caused an obnoxious groan. I could feel my face scrunch up in a cringe as my body froze, just waiting for someone to screech in German and have a potato masher hurled down the stairs at me – but nothing came. Either the fighting going on outside was enough to drown out the groan from the stairs or there wasn't a living soul on the premises other than me and Blithe. I took another step hoping I wasn't pushing my luck, then another and another. When I reached the top, a sight that would forever haunt me enveloped my sight. It was the bodies of what I suspected to be this houses previous owners. The mangled bodies just laid in the middle of the hallway, their lifeless eyes stared at me. The three bodies seemed to swimming in the blood that surrounded them, I was so captured by the heartbreaking sight that I didn't notice the explosions that rocked the city had stopped - or the presence behind me. A hand on my shoulder caused me to snap out of the trance the bodies had on me, and swing my body around – ready to bash in the skull of the person behind me with my rifle. Thankfully I stopped when I saw the dirty face of Randleman. I immediately relaxed and slouched. Randleman glanced behind me at the victims of war, and I could tell that feeling the same as me.

"I saw you come in here, but when you or Blithe never came back out I was worried." Randleman explained before kneeling in front of the bodies. I struggled to forms words.

"I-I- we... Blithe couldn't see, so I thought that it would be better if I found him a place to stay until the fighting was over."

Randleman stood up and turned towards me. "I didn't see him on the way up."

"Closet." I mumbled looking back at the poor French souls whose eyes were beginning to haunt me. As much as I wished to be able to walk away from this room, I couldn't. Thankfully Bull seemed to know what I was thinking because I was suddenly pulled away down the stairs. He pulled me to the closet and swung the door open, waiting there like a poor puppy was Blithe, not knowing if he was staring down the barrel of a gun or not. I watched him shake like a leaf but did nothing to drive away his fears. Randleman reached down and grabbed the man's arm and hauled him to his feet and ushered both of us out the door.

The next thing I knew I was sitting on a chair in the corner of the aid station that was recently set up in one of the buildings after the fighting had come to a standstill. Soldiers filed in and out as most were treated for superficial injuries. Through my haze I could see Winters and Doc Roe looking in the direction of Blithe and I, both our problems wouldn't be simply be solved by morphine or bandages. Winters was soon over in our corner and lightly conversing with Blithe, but none of their words penetrated my train of thought. As I starred at the walls across the room, a sound slowly pushed through my racing mind, like the sound of someone talking underwater – but slowly became clearer until I could make out that someone was calling my name.

"Griffin, can you hear me?" Winters concerned voice rang out. I barely moved to acknowledge him but my eyes quickly moved to look at him before returning to look at the wall. "What happened, Sam?" It took me a moment to figure out what to say.

"They were just left there to die." I murmured quietly enough that I bet he had at strain himself to hear me. He placed his helmet on the ground and sat down beside it.

"Who was?" His face wrinkled with confusion.

"The French family, they lived in the building."

"Sergeant, as painful as it was to see that. You have to remember that you're here to make sure that it never happens again."

I didn't reply. He stood up after a moment and just studied me for a moment, probably trying to figure out if I was lost cause and needed to go to some loonie bin – or if I was still able bodied to carry on fighting. A sigh escaped his lips before he turned around and limped towards the door, whispering something to Doc Roe before disappearing out the door.

I really didn't know what came over me when I saw those bodies, it was like I was looking in a mirror and all I could see was my parents and I in their places – and it stung me to the core. I didn't know how long had passed because in that moment seconds turned into minutes and into hours, as numbers of men with various injuries funneled in and out the door. With me being the constant variable and staying put. I was wringing my hands together when a boot connected swiftly with my own. My eyes traveled upwards and settled on my former CO; Speirs. The man didn't look impressed to say the least.

"What in God's name are you doing in here?" Speirs inquired sharply. Doc Roe chose to step in at that moment.

"He seems to be suffering from shock, unfortunately if he doesn't snap out of it soon – we're going to have to keep him behind in hopes he'll get better." The Dog Company lieutenant let the good doctor's words soak in before reaching down and smacking me in the face.

My eyes widened as I almost fell over in surprise from the uncalled for strike, but amazingly it seemed to have done its purpose – because my thoughts weren't solely on the dead civilians. I shakily rose to my feet and grabbed my heavily camouflaged helmet, and glanced over at my former Lieutenant – as Doc Roe looked on in silent shock.

"Now listen here, Sergeant, I better not hear or see you moping around another aid station unless you a real reason for being there. Got it?" He growled, continuing to berate me back into reality. I nodded my head quickly and made a quick escape. A blast of sun hit my eyes, blinding me for a second causing me to shield my eyes. I dropped hand and took in a sight of everyone lounging around, just talking and full on relaxing – before we'd have to go and fight more. I steadily stepped down the stairs before making my way a little ways down the road to find where the rest of my new platoon was, in case were given the order to move on out. Whispers soon filled my ears, whispers of my apparent meltdown in the aid station. Soon the looks followed and I could feel myself reverting back into another awake catatonic state.

I didn't even notice that I had stopped in the middle of the cobblestone street until the persistent honking brought me of my internal panic attack. I jumped up in surprised and side stepped to let the Army jeep pass. At that moment, I realized that I had no idea my platoon was amongst the sea of now clean faces.

"I swear to God! If it wasn't for Griffin, my Irish ass wouldn't be here." I spun my body around towards the unmistaken voice of Easy Company's Donald Malarkey.

"Isn't that the second time he saved your ass, Malark?" Webster inquired without looking away from his book.

"Yeah, so?"

"My point is that maybe Griffin isn't such a bad guy like he's made out to be." Webster rebutted flipping a page of the book he was reading.

"I never said he was a bad guy, Web."

"You treated him as such, no?"

"Web, you know he was just as much as a dick as the rest of those Dog Company pricks." Skip Muck argued, fighting with his sparking lighter.

"You guys weren't spring chickens either." I rebuffed, tossing my lighter over to Muck. He quickly reached out grasping the heavily scratched and slightly dented lighter. He regarded the item attentively before flipping the open the lighter, and bringing it close to his face and successfully lighting his cigarette. As soon as he finished, he snapped shut the lighter and flung it back. I caught it against my stomach and reached up to light my own. Taking a drag from my cigarette, I savored the feeling of nicotine that enveloped me before dropping my gear at my feet. The constant feeling of being watched returned as I fought off the feeling of self-doubt. I laid down beside the small group of men from my platoon, I slowly closed my eyes and tried to get a moments rest. Soon enough the men went back to their conversation. On the other hand, I wasn't so lucky – images of that mangled family popped into view and my eyes flew open.

"I'm telling you I didn't actually see it." Malarky answered, trying to steer the conversation away from him.

"What. Speirs shooting the prisoners or a Sergeant from his own platoon?" Cries of disbelief rose at Penkala's interjection.

"He shot one of his own guys?" Don Malarkey asked, a look of skepticism on his face.

"Supposedly the guy was drunk and refused to go on a patrol, who knows if it's true."

Eyes shifted towards me, demanding I solve the mystery regarding my former commanding officer. They had to be joking, first they don't want thing to do with me…except for Webster. But hey at least they're trying, right?

"You really want to ask me? You trust me to answer this truthfully?" Blank stares regarded me. "If you want an honest answer on this, you have to get past the elementary bullshit from Toccoa, Mackall and so on. Like it or not we have to have each other's backs." More blank stares and silence.

That's them agreeing, right?

"I'll take that as a yes. On the issue of the prisoners, I'm on the same page as Irish over there." Malarkey's ears turned slightly pink at the name; clearly he wasn't a fan of it. "On Speirs shooting one of his own guys; I wouldn't know. I was with you guys since this morning, if you want my honest to God opinion on it though, it's a hell no." Clearly from the faces I was seeing, they weren't impressed with my answer.

"Well, I know a guy. Who said an eye witness told him that Speirs hosed those prisoners." Muck said throwing a piece of what looked to be bread at Malarkey, only to have to dodge the incoming bread counter attack.

"Why is that." I countered, looking at him – using my hand to shield the sun from my eyes.

"On D-Day. He comes across some Kraut prisoners digging a hole or something, under guard and all. He breaks out a pack of smokes, passes them out. Even gives them a light. All of a sudden swings out his Thompson and hoses them. I mean God damn, gives them smokes first? See that's why I don't think he did it."

"Oh you don't believe it?" Malarkey sarcastically asked?

"I heard he didn't do it." Penkala chimed in on the debate. I had to admit; it was rather entertaining seeing them try to crack the mystery.

"It was him alright. Except it wasn't 8, it was more like 20." More commented, taking a drag from his cigarette.

"Hell of a shot." Muck agreed.

"All I know from what I've heard, he took that 105 on D-Day. Practically by himself, running through MG fire like a maniac." Penkala retold.

"That I did see!" Malarkey cried, remembering the amazing display.

"Was that before or after I had to save your ass?" I jeered, putting out my finished cigarette on the street.

"I said I was sorry Griffin, come on." The red head pleaded, hoping that whole ordeal would be forgotten.

I felt for the guy really, but this was too good to pass up. "Yeah you did, but that stupid is going to haunt you." I flicked a piece of debris away before continue. "Why are you risking your Irish ass for some fucking pistol?"

"Hey man, I'm not the only one who's trying to get one." He pointed out.

"Well you're sure as hell as the only one who'd run into the crossfire to get one." Muck joked.

I couldn't help but snort at how right he was. Malarkey threw the stale bread in response. It was nice to see that he had a good sense of humour.


	9. Carentan Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People get shot at, and someone gets shanked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for hanging there while I took 84 years to write up this chapter, I hope its worthwhile. All the thanks to Kattyb being a boss ass beta! Sadly I don't have any other chapters written up past this point, so hopefully it doesn't take another 3 years to update. My creative juices for this story has slowed down, but I shall proceed with it and a new story that's in the works!
> 
> Once again; I would love to hear what you guys think, so don't be afraid to give a comment.
> 
> Enjoy!

No matter how long you've been in the Army, you'd never get used to all the walking forced upon you. Shortly after teasing Don Malarkey about his quest for his Luger, 2nd Lieutenant Welsh gathered us all up we set out into the French countryside to God knows where. I shifted my ruck for what felt like the hundredth time, the mortar baseplate stabbing me in the back.

We had just taken the town of Carentan; it was a known fact that Carentan was just as important to the Germans as it was for us. The sun wasn't doing me any favors as I resisted the urge to reach for my canteen for another sip of water.

"Jesus, where the are we going?" I whined, shifting my ruck yet again.

"That's what I want to know, how long do we have to be out here?" Frank Perconte demanded, his nerves just as shot as mine.

"I don't know, Frank. Until they tell us to stop." Luz sarcastically replied, tired of Frank's constant whining.

To my own surprise, I found that I was quickly becoming fond of the camaraderie that the men of Easy Company shared. It was different from what I was used to, but it wasn't a bad different. While the guys from Dog Company were friendly, they weren't as close as these men were. Easy had been brought together by a common enemy in their CO; Sobel. They genuinely trusted each other and had each other's back. I really didn't understand how I could have disliked these men so much in the past. Still, as much as I was growing fond of them, we had a ways to go if we were going to be on the same level as they were with each other.

"High ground, there's high ground up ahead." Hoobler pointed out. I craned my neck to see around the men in front of me, trying to see the high ground he was talking about.

"Okay genius, answer me this then." Perconte began. I rolled my eyes and cracked a smile behind them, they were just so entertaining. "Why is Easy Company the only company whose either at the front of a advance or like now exposed at the far edge of line?" He questioned, looking for an answer to satisfy his annoyance.

"To keep you on your toes." Hoobler simply stated, barely batting an eye.

I held back a laugh, but barely. Obviously Perconte had been hoping for an eye opening answer. What he got was the biggest bullshit answer I've ever heard. Both Luz and Malarkey didn't even bother trying to cover up their amusement, laughing openly at the banter of their friends.

"No, that's not what I'm saying. I'm saying that were in the middle, and we're the fifth of nine companies of this regiment. Able through Item, think of it." Perconte rambled.

Hoobler raised his hand and pointed out into the horizon. "You see that the-" He was cut off by the sound of German MG42s firing at us from God knows where. The Easy Company platoons dropped to the ground, and tried to get an idea from where the oncoming fire was coming from.

A few moments later the voice of 1st platoon's Lieutenant Welsh rose up above the chaos raining down on us. "Contact right! Get in that hedgerow!" With those orders given, we were running over each other trying to get into the hedgerow's cover. Most of the men were running as if the Devil's hounds were biting at their heels, but lo and behold there was Blithe – frozen on the hedgerows incline. I stopped for a moment, considering rushing to his help, but Chris' voice rang through my mind, reminding me to run if shit went south.

Thankfully, someone had spotted Blithe and hauled him up and over the small incline and into the protection the hedgerow provided. On the other hand, I was still frozen in place. If only there was someone to save me from my own thoughts, that had me paralyzed. Chris' plea and the mangled French bodies flashed through my head, completely cutting me off from the catastrophe around me. My grip on my weapon loosened and the gun fell beside me into the mud. The sound of bullets ripping through the trees and foliage became muffled, and then completely silent as my mind drifted away from the present. Images of my past began to flash by when I was roughly brought back to the present by a lifeless body colliding with me. This was enough to snap me out of my thoughts and I pushed off body as quickly as I possibly could, not enjoying the thought of having a corpse piled on top of me.

The loud obnoxious gunfire returned with my motor skills, so I reached down and grasped at my now muddy carbine. I flipped my body over before crawling up the muddy incline and began firing. My ears rung from the .30 caliber rounds that discharged from the M1. The ejector port sprung open, the final round of the magazine being fired across the field. Just as I started the process of reloading my carbine, I saw and heard Welsh yell the order to cease-fire.

We now knew where the Krauts were, which meant we were at a standstill…it was going to be a long day.

//

Darkness fell upon us a few hours into the standstill. Our little patch of protection was now littered with a bunch of foxholes, to provide us with another layer of protection – hopefully shielding us from the danger that surrounded us. I was seated in my mud pit all by my lonesome, trying in vain to clean my weapon when a branch broke behind me; I dropped the handkerchief and reached for a better grip of my carbine. "Flash." I whispered loudly, praying that some Kraut hadn't managed to slip past the men patrolling the surrounding woods.

"Thunder." Martin appeared from behind a bush. "Its your turn on watch, Griffin." He stated, swinging his Thompson onto his shoulder. He hadn't bothered waiting for a reply, because by the time I climbed out of my hole, he was gone.

Grumbling to myself, I set out into the night – praying that I would have uneventful walk. I'd rather be bored than shot by the Germans or, God forbid, by friendly fire. I scanned the forest around me, taking in every detail I could in the darkness. As much as I was constantly surrounded by the nature since I've arrived in Normandy, I couldn't help but continue to marvel at its beauty. It's not something I'd ever get used to. I stepped over a protruding root, only to have a bayonet slash at my side. Sharp pain engulfed my side as I fell to the ground, rolling away and crying out as my side struck the ground.

German dialect filled the area around me; I looked desperately at my weapon that had fallen from my grasp when I was initially attacked. I started reaching for my handgun when the Kraut jumped me. His hands grasped at my handgun, trying to wrestle the gun into his own hands, a sharp pain came over me as his knee came in contact with my cut side. Keeping one hand on the gun, my other hand began pushing the man's head back. He grunted and applied more pressure to my side. My eyes squeezed shut and I bit down on my cheek to prevent myself from letting out a shrill scream. He pulled his knee back and viciously rammed it back into my side, my eyes shot up and I let out the scream I was trying so hard to keep in.

The German man's eyes widened, as the realization hit that the man he was fighting was in fact a woman; no man could scream at that high of a pitch. His grip on the handgun weakened from the shock and I took this opportunity to pull the handgun toward me. It didn't take him long to realize what I was doing and he started fighting for the gun again. Two rounds tired off in the struggle but then the man yanked at gun with a great amount of force to succeed in pulling the weapon away from me.

I reached beside me and scrambled to find any sort of object to hit the man with. My hand connected with a solid object, I wasted no time in grabbing it and bashing the Kraut in the side of the head. He rolled over from the force of the blow, but it wasn't enough to knock him out. As I tried to reach for the gun once again, he looked over at me and backhanded me across the face. He turned the gun towards me and I closed my eyes, accepting that I had lost and that I was going to die. I heard the bang of a gun going off and the soft thud a body hitting the ground beside me.

I opened an eye and looked where the German once knelt and saw him laying down beside me in a heap. I heard footsteps getting closer and closer as I tried to sit up. I grimaced just as Malarkey came to a halt in front of me.

"Jesus Christ, Griffin, are you alright?" He took a knee in front of me and looked me up and down.

"Yeah I'm fine, just help me up." I held out my arm. He stood up and grabbed my arm and started pulling me up when I cried out, grasping my side. I laid back down and grinded my teeth together in pain.

He dropped down in front of me; he pulled my hand away from my side. "Christ, you said you were fine."

"I am, don't worry about it." I tried to push him away.

"You need Doc Roe to take a look at you."

My breath got caught in my throat. "Its not worth his time, just a flesh wound."

"Griffin, you have got to be kidding me. You're bleeding like a stuck pig. At least let me take a look at it." I quickly shuffled away from him, fear filling my eyes. "Sam, it's okay. I know." He stared me straight in the eye and his voice softened. "I know." He repeated and I instantly knew what he meant.

But how could he? I had been so careful, hell the men I lived with for over two years didn't suspect a thing, how could he possibly have found out? "I don't know what you're talking about." I denied, as though I could truly keep up the charade.

He gave me a look, making it clear he didn't believe me. "Sam... that's short for Samantha isn't it?" I froze. How could I keep denying it?

I dropped my fake deep voice when I spoke again. "Please, don't tell anyone." It sounded strange to hear my actual voice again after so long.

He sat down beside me and took off his helmet. "Lets take this one step at a time, okay? Step one is looking at that wound."

He helped me sit up, and I began unbuttoning my tunic top. With my white t-shirt now in view, it was easy to see that what I claimed wasn't a big deal actually was in fact a very big deal. I gingerly lifted my shirt past the cut, bringing the bandage that binds my chest into view. Malarkey drew a flashlight from his pack, and shined the light on my ribs.

"Sam, I'm no medic but I can tell you that it's to be looked at."

I pulled my shirt down quickly. "If I go to him with this he'll find out and he'll have to tell Winters, who will in turn Sink. I'm as good as dead."

"Are you even listening to yourself talk? If you let this go untreated, it's a death sentence on its own."

"I can take of it myself, I'll put sulfa on it. It'll be fine."

"Samantha, use your head! They must have heard the shots and are on their way here. They can help."

As much as I wanted to believe that I could take of it myself, I knew he was right. I ripped open a packet of sulfa and poured the white powder over the open wound. I then unraveled a bandage and tied it securely around my ribcage, and finally tucked my shirt in and buttoned up my top. I finally sighed. "You're right."

He smiled. "I have my moments."

He stood up and held out his hand, I reached up and grasped it and was hauled to my feet. The pain in my side flared up and I groaned. He gave me a look of sympathy and bent over to pick up his helmet. When he straightened back up he went straight to retrieving my stuff that had been discarded earlier in my struggle with the Kraut. He handed me my helmet, and I put it back on and it naturally tilted to the side.

"So, how did the Jerry over there get the drop on you?" He asked bending over to pick up both my M1911 and M1.

I felt my face heat up as I mumbled the answer.

"What was that?" He handed me back my weapons.

"I said, I was looking at the trees."He gave me a look of disbelief and laughed. "I don't get to see this much nature back home." I cried trying to get him to understand and not laugh at me.

"I wouldn't let people know that." He advised, walking back towards the foxholes.

When we got back to the camp, we both found our replacements to take over the patrol before Malarkey took off in a direction to find Doc Roe and Winters. I followed along, fearing what would happen next. Would they blab and have me executed? Or would I be able to fight another day?

Malarkey turned to me. "How about you go sit over there where it's secluded. I'll go find the Doc and Winters and explain the situation."

I turned to look where he gestured and when I turned back he was gone, already on the hunt for our CO and trusty medic. I couldn't help but wring my hands as my nerves got the better of me. From my knowledge something like a stab would require me to be evacuated to the nearest military hospital, which was something I had to avoid at all cost.

Finding a nice secluded tree; hidden from the view of the foxholes – I allowed myself to relax and sit at the bottom of the tree. Only my relaxing efforts were in vain, as the action of lowering myself to the ground set my side aflame. A hiss escaped my lips and my eyes squeezed shut. I dropped to the ground in an ungraceful heap; I reached over to my side and gingerly pressed my hand to the wound.

"Pressing your hand over the gash isn't going to make it any better." I glanced up frantically, only to come face to face with the object of my greatest fears; Lieutenant Winters and Doc Roe. Donald Malarkey lingered in the background; the look on his face didn't give away their intentions.

I had no idea if the fight or flight response was needed. I had nothing to go on.

Doc Roe dropped in front of my and reached forward for my tunic, I jerked away reflexively.

"Miss Griffin, he needs to treat your injury. I doubt that your parents will be pleased to know that their daughter wasn't being looked after."

"There ain't no chance in hell that they'll ever know, because I'm not going to have to tell them." I hopped away from the Doc in protest to what the Winters was insinuating.

"I don't think you understand how grave this issue is. Do you know what the other scenario is? You'll be killed."

Doc Roe reached for me again, I gave in, letting him unbutton my tunic and begin examining my stab wound. Winters turned away, trying to save my dignity; I could care less about it – seeing as both the Doc and Malarkey will have seen me without a shirt on.

"No offence sir, but you're overlooking another solution. We don't tell anyone."

"Do you know what you're suggesting? You're not only putting yourself in jeopardy but also the three of us."

Malarkey took a step forward. "Lieutenant, she's proven to be a great soldier and asset to stop the Germans. No one else knows; so what more harm could it do?"

I could kiss that Irish fool.

Winters didn't reply to Malarkey's remark, instead he turned his head towards both the Doc and I.

"How bad is she?" He asked Doc Roe, ready to base his decision on the expert opinion of East Company's medic.

"It's not bad, but its not good either. Under normal circumstances I'd want someone with this sort of injury to be looked over and tended to by a doctor." The southern man replied, shining his flashlight at my side.

Lieutenant Winters went silent, most likely trying to determine what was the right course of action to proceed with.

He finally spoke up. "Can you patch her up yourself?"

I could feel hope starting to fill me, if he was asking the Doc if he could tend me on his own. Then maybe, just maybe he would consider Malarkey's remark.

"Sure I can but it won't be pretty by any means." The medic replied, wiping away some blood that started flowing from the wound.

Winters slightly nodded. "Malarkey, Roe finish up here, I'll head back and try to settle everyone down. With the shots you two fired and what just happened to Floyd, the men are walking on eggshells. This stays between us."

Roe and I nodded our agreement. Malarkey sighed in relief. The Lieutenant regarded us briefly before disappearing into the night.

"Malark, make yourself useful and hold this light, I can't stitch her up and provide light for myself." Roe ordered and reached into his medic bag for the supplies he would need.

"Is it too much to ask for something for the pain?" I sheepishly asked, already knowing the answer.

"As much as I would like to say yes, you know that isn't a priority for morphine." Roe's gentle southern twang tried to reassure me. He asked for Malarkey to keep the light on my wound.

"So tell me. What made you risk your life to be here?" Malarkey suddenly asked. As he asked me that question, the good Doc decided I was plenty distracted and made his move. He applied pressure to the needle in his hand and pierced it through my flesh. I tensed up in response from the puncture and hopped in place in pain.

"Please try to keep still, Miss Griffin." He pleaded, ceasing his stitching.

"Damn Doc, you're stitching me back together. You've earned the right to call me by my name. So just call me Sam, enough with the Miss bullshit." I comically growled out from pain.

"Deal, but only if you call me by name. Eugene." He went back to work.

The whole ordeal was slow and painful but it had to be done to keep me safe. And it seemed as though my secret would be safe, for now at least, because of this. That and I could see that the two men before me were at least somewhat impressed with me. That was something.

//

Morning arrived and the Germans had yet to fire a single shot and the uncharacteristic silence had everyone on edge. With the morning sun though came prying eyes that were hounding for an explanation for my bloodied and ripped jacket. I fended them off with excuse after excuse, but I could tell that they didn't buy it one bit.

Thankfully a plan of attack was drawn up and I was safe from most of the questions as me and the mortar squads sat perched on a hill overlooking the hedgerow and beyond. The sun shined bright and I leaned back on the slopped ground and shielded my eyes from the glowing orb.

"So, Griffin, you going to tell us what really happened to you – or are you going to try and throw another lame excuse at us." The man known as Skip asked, finishing the set up of his mortar.

"I'd tell you but than I'd have to kill you." I replied smirking into my canteen as I stole a sip.

"I'd rather be dead then have to hear another riveting tale of how a tree attacked you."

"I'd like to hear what really happened too." A timid voice spoke up.

I cocked my head backwards toward the voice. "Aw c'mon Sawosko, you're supposed to be on my side." I whined, throwing a clump of grass at the young Private.

"Come on guys, if he doesn't want to tell – he doesn't want to tell. Not everyone wants the world to know how he got injured." Malarkey butted in on my behalf.

"Thank you!" I said loudly pointing at him.

"You're right; I would make a excuse about a tree if I got stabbed by Smith too." A man from my squad, Ballew, jeered.

I pouted as the men surrounded me laughed, but it was nice to see that the men of Easy Company were starting to let me be a part of the gang. Unless you count Guarnere; Ole Gonorrhea would sooner let Hitler be his pal than me. I blushed in embarrassment from everyone's laughter; I looked over a Malarkey to see him laughing with the rest of them. The difference being that when he noticed me staring at him, he winked. A wink that said just go with it, and maybe more? I then blushed for a completely different reason.

The cheerful and slightly embarrassing moment was broken, as machine gun fire broke out in the distance. Me and the men from my mortar squad clambered to our feet and scampered up the hill to our mortar pit; a little ways from Malarkey's. The whole ordeal of quickly dashing over to the other pit jostled my stitched side, a burning sensation bubbled within me. I pushed down the discomfort to lead my squad through this engagement.

Down below I could see tracer rounds flying across the field separating us from the Krauts. The shouts of orders and cries of pain could be heard from below and I ground my teeth in anger. I glanced down at the range table in my hands, and began making the calculations of the distance between my mortar and the Germans position. Sometimes I just wished I wasn't part of the mortar squad so I wouldn't have to deal with the trouble of trying to read a damn chart. High stress situations like this only made it worse. I could hear Malarkey already shouting out the range to his own crew, and I silently cursed.

"Sarge?" King; another man in my squad asked, confused to why I hadn't given them a range.

I quickly took the range Malarkey gave his own crew and made some alterations to them; taking the distance from both our mortar setups into consideration.

I shouted to coordinates and moments later a 60mm mortar shell flew down range, blowing up anything within in landing range to smithereens. Shell after shell flew down range until there were no shells left. After that, it wasn't long before the Shermans rolled out onto the field, causing the Germans to retreat from the field. We all fell back on the hill, laughing in relief at the sight.

"So, Griffin, how'd you let a get like Smith get the drop on you?"

"Jesus Christ."

//

It was a feeling like no other being back in England, away from the war and its horrors – no matter how short the time away would be. We found ourselves in a barn of sorts; smoking and finally getting the break we deserved. Guarnere had seemed to have found himself a new friend out of the new group of replacements that had joined our ranks. It didn't look like the guys beside him were impressed by the fact that he had invited the new guy to take seat with them.

A nudge bumped me out of my staring state and knocked me slightly off balance, a hand rested on my back and I was steadied. Looking over my shoulder I could see Malarkey smile at me before he slid onto the bench beside me. "Where were you?" I inquired sipping from the mug in front of me.

"Oh, you know, a little trip on a motorcycle." He grinned.

I could feel my eyes roll. "You mean to tell me you took a joy ride…" He didn't get to answer as he was shushed.

"The night was filled with dark and cold…" Everyone's ears strained to hear the now infamous tale about Easy Company's Kokomo boy. Like me, Talbert had been wounded that night in the hedgerow, but unlike me he had been accidentally been stabbed by one of our own guys. As Gordon presented Talbert one of his own purple stars, a thundering applause filled the barn.

One again another nudge graced my shoulder. "What?!" I whispered harshly, exaggerating my annoyance.

"You deserve one too." Malarkey's eyes met mine and I felt a flutter in my heart.

Fuck.


	10. Replacements Part One

The atmosphere in the pub was one of ignorant bliss, the men and I knew that the unknown ahead of us could mean our deaths, but that was then and this was now. Being back in Aldbourne meant that we were safe with a roof over our heads and warm chow in our stomachs. That of course also meant that there was ungodly amount of alcohol that needed to be consumed. The whole ordeal of returning to England after the Carentan counter attack incident was a little surreal; I couldn’t really wrap my head around the idea that three people knew my secret. It became apparent quickly however that I could and would have to trust the men indefinitely.

That was the situation I found myself in now, watching one of my secret keepers joyfully laughing over a pint of beer. He caught my eye and gave an exaggerated wave; a consequence from all the drinking he had done.

Did I also mention that every time I laid my eyes on him, that I wanted to kiss senseless? Yeah…that was a new development. Irish attract other Irish; I guess.

I forced my eyes away from the waving buffoon, and caught sight of Cobb making his way towards a small group of replacements; I didn’t have to hear him to know that he was giving the young privates grief. Grief they didn’t deserve. A mousy private turned to speak to Cobb before hesitating, and finally removing a pin from his uniform. He placed it on the table and made a hasty exit. No doubt from the embarrassment Cobb caused. I took a gulp from my now warm beer before placing it back on the table, and rose from my seat. Ready to tear the man a new one for causing the kid distress. I paused halfway to the table when I saw the man they called Bull step up to the table. Several men around me looked at me and stared, confused as to why I would just be standing on my lonesome in the middle of the pub floor. Bull said something in passing to the blond jerk and picked up what I now knew was as the presidential unit citation pin, and left after the mousy private. Cobb smacked the private next to him and spoke viciously before I arrived. 

“Are you really that petty Cobb?” I asked, making my presence known to him. The other Privates at the table stared at both Cobb and I, eyes wide in surprise.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about Griffin.” He threateningly stated, his posture turning even more defensive then before.

“That’s Sergeant to you Private. You know that we’re all on the same team here, you literally just chased away the man that might have to have your back the time we go into the shit.” I angrily shouted. Vaguely I could make out that everyone around us fell silent. Thankfully one Don Malarkey stepped between the two of us.

“Guys lets turn it down a notch. We have to trust each other inexplicably, Cobb you need to go have a drink and stop preying on the new guys. Grif you need to know better, don’t rile him up.”

Cobb and I stared at each other momentarily before Cobb huffed to himself angrily and stomped off. I quickly grabbed the half filled pint of beer from Don’s hand and took a large gulp. The weight of all the drama and decisions I’ve made were starting to tear me apart, piece-by-piece.

“Hey that’s mine!” Don whined, he reached forward clawing at me hoping to retrieve his beer.

“Don, not now, please.” I pleaded before taking off towards the pub exit. I pushed my way pass Smokey and Lipton and out the door. I gulped down the rest of beer from Don’s glass and tossed it aside. The sound of shattering glass fell on deaf ears, because the only thing on my mind was where I could find a different source of alcohol at this hour. Unfortunately the process of actually figuring out an alternate alcohol or liquor source took little to no time, which meant I didn’t have the time to realize how incredible stupid I was being. Being four and a half beers in for me obviously wasn’t a good thing, because it had me thinking that raiding the cellar of the family I was boarded with that was filled with beer was a good thing.

The next thing I knew, I was across the small town of Aldbourne and pulling at the locked cellar doors. I threw logic to the wind and planted a foot on each door and began to pull, not noticing that my foot placement wasn’t going to help my cause any or that I had yet bypassed the chain that securely kept the doors closed. I let out a huff of frustration before tearing off my uniform dress coat and throwing it aside.

As if the loss of an article of clothing would make all of the difference on my quest.

I quickly loosened my tie and rolled up my shirts sleeves, I bent over and grabbed ahold of the rock at my feet and heaved myself back upright. I positioned myself over the offending chain door and forcibly brought the rock in contact with it. A loud clang filled the air and I stilled, waiting to see if the noise I created caused the slumbering family to awake. I stood in place for a moment waiting for any sign that the family had risen, the sound of footfalls or the turning on of lights. The sound of crickets met my ears and the undisturbed darkness around me coaxed me to continue. I pounded the rock continuously into the lock, as if the constant attacks were going to somehow cure all the stress that had latched onto me. 

Finally the lock gave way and now the precious alcohol was now within my reach. I dropped the rock on the ground beside the lock, and pulled at the chain holding the handles together. With no care in the world; other than the liquor that I pursued so stupidly – I swung open on of the cellar doors. My feet stomped noisily down the cement steps of the cellar, the darkness of the room didn’t help me one bit. I reached into my pants’ pocket and pulled out my lighter to use as a source of some light. I grabbed the first bottle of hard liquor that I could set my eyes on, I reached up to a shelf and pulled down the first bottle I found. It didn’t matter what it was, it wasn’t like I broke into some farmer’s cellar for a nice glass of fine whiskey.

I unscrewed the top of the bottle and took an overly large gulp of the spirit, the liquid burned as it slid down my throat. Ignoring the burn; I wiped the excess whiskey away with the back of my hand and practically skipped up the stairs. Once I reached the top I hopped over the last step and spun in place. I bent over and grabbed a door and swung it closed. I took another swig and kicked the other door closed.

It was going to be a hell of a night.

//

Who knew that consuming most; if not all of a bottle of whiskey was going to fuck me up as much as it did. The whole night was spent with me stumbling around Aldbourne, just wallowing about my problems…not caring about anything else in the world. Not Hitler, and not his Nazi soldiers. That’s right, all that mattered was me and this bottle of whiskey.

The calm, cool Aldbourne night shifted from silent to rowdy as the men of the 506 left the pub to return to their beds, to get a few hours sleep before we would have to jump. This time Holland. I stumbled past the slightly inebriated men and giggled.

Giggled. Not fake manly chuckle…a giggle worthy of a love struck teenage girl.

Thankfully none of the men seemed to notice how I had turned into a giggling schoolgirl. Well… almost none. One soul did notice my girlish demeanor and quickly pulled me away from the travelling crowd of soldiers. 

“Sam, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Donald Malarkey’s happier disposition from earlier did a complete 180. His brows furrowed as his eyes took in my drunken state. He plucked out the almost completely empty bottle of alcohol from my grasp and I whined in protest. His month set in a straight line; clearly he wasn’t a fan of drunken Sam.

“C’mon Donnie, I’m just having a tasting – no big deal.” I brushed off his concern, too drunk to take it to heart. He sighed, reached over and straightened my ruffled dress uniform. Hoping to pass me off as somewhat presentable if an officer where to walk by and catch me.

“Come on, Sam, I’ll walk you back.” He gently placed his hand on my back, guiding me back to the house I was set up in.

The trip back itself wasn’t a long one per say, but being as out of it as I was –my nonsense must have made it longer for him. On the other hand, before I knew it he stopped us in front of a little farmhouse…the scene of my crime.

“Don, if I was a girl. You would be a great catch.” I smiled and let out a small hiccup. He raised an eyebrow at me, and his lips twitched up in amusement.

“Sam, you are a girl.”

Once again an uncharacteristic giggle escaped my lips at this comment, it was hard to believe that it was like yesterday that we were at each other’s throat. I threw that all to the wind and reached up and gripped the back of the redhead’s neck, my lips sloppily collided with his.

Through the fuzziness of being drunk, I felt Don’s body go stiff like a rock against me. The fog clouding my mind and judgment cleared momentarily as I remembered who I was, who I was pretending to be, and who he was. I instantly took a step back, putting the necessary distance between us.

“Shit. I am so sorry, Don,” I start to say, trying to scramble my brain for an appropriate excuse besides that I’m dead drunk. “I-” I begin again, but am cut short as Don pulled me in by the waist and kissed me in return.

My mind was already numb with alcohol, but in every place he touched I went numb too. With his lips on mine, his hands gripping my hips possessively, and his chest smashed heartily against my own, I could barely breathe.

The kiss was aggressive, yet languid. I could feel the want but also tenderness being emitted into the air around us, but wasn’t quite sure if the feeling was arising from me, from him, or both. I didn’t quite care at this point as I wrapped my arms around his neck and tried to pull him closer. The numbness was a high.

The maneuver apparently sparked something within Don, because he was soon backing me up until I hit the brick wall of the house. His lips left mine, but soon pursued their way to my jaw and down my neck.

A moan was bubbling in my throat, so I bit my lip and tugged at his red hair in an effort to restrain myself. Even in my addled state, I knew I needed to be quiet, although the reason wasn’t clear.

But it all abruptly stopped.

 

//

It was like any other jump, except this one was in broad daylight – and we were potentially going into combat with greener than green replacements. Having these guys in our squad wasn’t what we called a good time, most of the time I felt like we were a bunch of babysitters. None of them looked like they were old enough to be shaving, much less be fighting in a war. By far the most annoying thing about them was that they were all piss and vinegar or gung ho about the idea of killing Krauts, but now that we were in the air, their true colours shined. They all looked like they wanted to go home and cry to their mothers.

“Jesus.” I whispered to myself. For I couldn’t believe that on top of the massive splitting headache, that I would have to deal with the possibility of them jumping ship…so to speak.

On the other hand, having to deal with them would keep me distracted from the awkwardness that existed between Malarkey and myself now. The aftermath of what I refer to as the Biggest Fuck Up of All Time was a nightmare. With Don kind of, sort of avoiding me, that meant that I’d taken two-steps back with the Easy guys. Without Don there as a buffer, most didn’t like to initiate any form of small talk. Also, that I did one thing that you should never do when in the middle of a war… kiss your fellow soldier.

The inside of the plane glared red, it was time to see what these replacements were made of. Everyone inside the C-47 stood up as the orders we given, like clockwork all of us patted down the guy in front of us. In the back of my mind I could hear the joking voice of Blackburn saying that equipment check was just an excuse to grab the ass of the guy in front of you. If you would have asked me if I had imagined grabbing Malarkey’s ass, then I would have flat out denied it. The light turned green and the line started shuffling forward, Toccoa men and replacements jumping in quick succession from the door of the plane. Out of nowhere the line stopped, causing me to bump into the back of the Private in front of me.

I looked over his shoulder and growled. The standing in the door was another replacement.

“I swear to God Private, if you don’t jump out of this Goddamn aircraft in the next 2 seconds – I’ll make sure you jump.” I shouted over the roar of the C-47’s blaring engines.

Both Privates looked over at me with horrified eyes.

“One!” I yelled, putting my hand on the arm man in front of me– ready to push past him need be. “Tw-” The replacement took a step back, forgetting about the door behind him – and fell. The remaining man looked at me in horror, half expecting me to push him out. I cocked my eyebrow and nudged my head towards the door. The young man didn’t need to be told twice, as he leapt out of the plane. A small chuckle escaped me before I followed suit, jumping out after him.

My body absorbed the small shock from the landing as I rolled over and quickly unclipped myself from the parachute harness. As I got to my feet I noticed the same two Privates struggling to remove their harness. I jogged over to them and made quick work of popping the chest buckles.

“The first jump is the hardest. You’ll be alright.” They quickly followed after me as we chased after the most the rest of the company.

I don’t know what I was expecting; certainly not platoons of paratroopers frolicking though Netherlands’ luscious green field. Okay so maybe we weren’t frolicking, but it was way too suspicious for us to be able to just waltz by a village that was supposedly occupied by Germans without getting shot at. It seemed like I wasn’t the only one who was thinking the same thing, for multiple men shared a worrying look between them. I couldn’t blame them, for all we knew it could be another trap like Carentan – where they let us get close to the town limits before firing upon us.

I closed my eyes at the thought of Carentan; the mangled bodies flashed though my mind briefly. I viciously shook my head to clear myself of those thoughts; this wasn’t the time or place for me to mentally check out.

Up ahead of the pack; Bull Randleman came to a complete stop at a wooden fence and couched down behind it. It wasn’t long until we came to a stop behind him. Still crouching, I slowly made my way over to him, all while making sure some sniper didn’t pop up out of no where and fire a shot off into my skull.

“What do we got, Bull?” I inquired, a little out of breath from all the running. 

All he responded with was his finger pointing at something. I turned my head expecting the worst only to see a woman tying off an orange sheet in a window.

“Hold your fire.” Bull whispered to the men around him.

//

The sight before me was unlike anything I had seen in my 21 years, it wasn’t as crazy as the 4th of July celebrations or as grand as the Macy Day parades back home – but it held much more significance. Men, women, and children flocked into the streets to mob us, the American who would for sure stop the Germans. Men were being pulled aside left and right for pictures and brief kisses from extremely thankful Dutch women.

Speaking of kisses, I was again hauled into the arms of another young woman and smothered with her eager lips. I attempted to pull away as I had all the previous times, except this proved to be extremely different – for the unknown young women’s grip on back of my head was shockingly strong. 

‘Mother of God, save me.’ I thought miserably as I attempted to once again escaped the clutches of the eager Dutch woman.

A sudden yank pulled me away from the kissing grasp to freedom. I turned to look at my savior, only to have an icy feeling take over me. There starring back at me was none other than Donald Malarkey; the key factor for operation Biggest Fuck Up of All Time. I cracked a small thankful smile that without a doubt most likely looked awkward and pathetic.

What had I done?


End file.
